A Dark Matter
by dibdab4
Summary: Changes seem to keep coming Elsie Hughes (Carson)'s way as she continues to settle into life with her new husband. The secret keeper, however, will have to contend with her own long hidden truths as a dark entity makes itself known in the Abbey. Story begins not longer after Christmas Special S6 ends, so spoilers abound.
1. Tickle Finger

**Taking a bit of a leap here, but a very sweet and dear friend read this chapter and has encouraged me to share this new story. The chapters will become longer in length and the rating may change, but we are going to start here. It will very much be Elsie's story, but most of the DA characters will take part.**

 **Fic is set not long after the 2016 Christmas Special ends, so spoilers abound for you guys watching the PBS airing now.**

 **Thank you on the outset for taking the time to try this one on. I am cautiously optimistic... XO Jen**

* * *

For the most part they are peaceful souls.

Even as a child Elsie Hughes had known this to be true. The dares and challenges issued over the years among her playmates as they took the shortcut through the churchyard on their way towards the various lanes that led to their family homes and farms on the outskirts of Argyle had been proof enough of this. No other child, male or female, had come close to meeting the bravery that the small, freckled faced lass had exhibited the many times she had gamely laid down on top of a fresh grave or ventured alone into one of the three small mausoleums that resided on the sacred and consecrated ground. Wide eyes and unbelieving faces greeted her after each accomplishment; her nonchalance dazzling and bewildering her young friends. What Maude McCowan, Hester Douglas, Melvin MacTavish and the other children failed to understand was that Elsie was never truly alone in her endeavors.

"Ye wee mongrel. Making quite a show of yourself, are you?" Bertram Phillips had laughed as he leaned against his own headstone looking down at Michael Hughes' oldest girl who laid on the grown a foot beneath where his transparent feet dangled. "Your grandfather MacDougall would take a switch to you if he saw such antics going on. You're lucky he's on yonder hill and his grave faces the east."

Elsie had lifted an eyebrow and merely grinned up at the specter whom only she could see.

Others had passed around her. Women in gowns from various time periods and men with hair in varying lengths, some of whom wore tartan kilts celebrating their clans, but they were no more menacing than any of the living humans she might have passed in the village on a Saturday morning doing a bit of shopping with her mother. Cemeteries were full of those who had been cared for enough by the living to be ushered into a chosen and remembered place among their ancestors, more recently perished family members, and departed friends. The care and love they had experienced as life had ebbed away inspired most of their energies to remain in a passive and peaceful state in the earthly realm.

Her small body had grown cold in its position upon the Scottish soil, Elsie had risen to her feet and merely shrugged her shoulders in response to her mates' admiring eyes before turning to find a young boy had floated up next to her. Turning her back to her friends, she smiled and whispered, "I'll come back and see you another day, Tommy." The ghost returned her grin before slinking back behind a large nearby headstone. Skipping back towards her flesh and bone friends, she had bid a silent goodbye to those who remained within the stone borders of the churchyard.

* * *

Her maternal grandmother had cottoned to Elsie's sensitivities and other talents when the child was barely three. The summer sun kissing her nose with freckles and pinking her little cheeks still full of the bloom and fullness of an infancy spent at her mother's breast, little Elsie had wandered into the shade of the large rowan near her grandparent's barn and was deep in conversation when her grandmother approached, her own gifts divining an other-worldly presence, but the form going unseen.

"Elsie?"

The little girl turned around with a sweet smile for her grandmother, but the grin fell from her face as she turned back to find her conversational companion had disappeared.

"Who were you talking to, lamb?" Her grandmother reached out and brushed her fingers over the warm cheek of the wee one.

"Martha, but she went way."

Gasping, Beatrice MacDougall lifted her hand to her heart as she digested her granddaughter's mention of her own child who had perished when she had drowned twenty-four years before at the age of six after falling through the ice of the pond situated one hundred yards from where they stood. "Tell me about Martha, Elsie."

"Wet, but she not cold. She has mittens. She loves you and Grandpa Mac."

Turning her head away briefly as she fought to contain her emotion, Beatrice bent down and wrapped her arms around the girl as she whispered, "You are a good, sweet lass, Elsie May, and a special one at that." Pulling back, she regarded her granddaughter's mildly alarmed face. "Nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart, but the next time you see Martha or someone else like her, will you let me know?"

Elsie tightened her grip around her grandmother's neck. "I will."

Waiting until her granddaughter's small body relaxed fully against her own, the matriarch whispered in her ear, "You are special, lamb. Very special. Now, may Gran see your hands?"

Leaning back against her grandmother's supportive arm, Elsie presented her small hands, fingers splayed.

"Do your fingers ever tingle or feel like there is a little tickle in the tip?"

The little head nodded in the affirmative as she whispered, "Tickle finger," lifting her right index finger.

"Have you ever made anything move without touching it?"

Looking up into Beatrice's searching eyes, Elsie bit her bottom lip before turning to the ground and spotting a few rowanberries. Directing her finger towards the four small pieces of fruit, she fixed her gaze and lifted her right eyebrow.

Beatrice's stomach flipped over as she watched the four berries begin to rise a few inches off the ground, the fruit rotating in a smooth loop as though they were moons orbiting an invisible planet. "Good, my darling. Very good."

The fruit fell to the ground as Elsie returned her gaze to her grandmother's face. "I'm a good girl, Gran?"

"A very good girl, little lamb, but for now, you mustn't do this sort of thing in front of anyone but Gran. Do you understand? You mustn't use your tickle finger for anything like this if you aren't with Gran. Some people won't understand and Grand needs to teach you many things. So no tickle finger unless you are with me. Just Elsie and Gran. Alright? Can you promise Gran?"

Her little face serious, Elsie nodded.

"My good girl. My smart, bright, special lass."

* * *

The day would have been memorable enough given it was the first in which she had left the cottage en route for the Abbey without her husband at her side, but the crisp October Monday would also be stored in her memory as the the day the demon made itself known.

Mr. Barrow had patiently shadowed Charles for the previous month and with the former butler's blessing, the younger man was waiting near the chair at the head of the servant's table as the housekeeper joined the slowly assembling members of staff for the morning's breakfast.

"Good morning, Mr. Barrow."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes."

She felt a small ache in her chest as a result of the absence of the large presence who had resided to her left for more than twenty years, but she managed to quell her melancholia as she assured herself it would be that very presence resting to her left in their large, soft bed later that evening.

"Big day, Mr. Barrow. I was asked to offer my best wishes on behalf of Mr. Carson, but you will get none from me."

The new butler looked at her with shock.

A grin from his elder soon soothed his worry. "You don't need my good wishes. You're ready and you have my full confidence."

"That means a great deal, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie glanced down the length of the table to assure that each seat was ready to be filled before returning to him with a knowing look. "We follow your lead."

With a nod and small smile, Downton Abbey's new leader took his seat at the end of the table.

* * *

Young George, Sybbie, and a visiting Marigold were being led from their afternoon visit with their parents and grandparents in the library as Elsie made her way into the foyer from the green baize door. Offering a kind nod to Lady Sybil who hovered just outside the library door, she turned to return a wave from Sybbie when a sudden movement caught her eye. Little more than a shadow, the form shifted shape and size as it alternated between gently floating to making quick, sudden jettisoned trips over the ground, along the walls, and off of pieces of furniture. Elsie's hand covered her mouth as she watched the entity take the shape of a ball and bounce unfelt back and forth among the heads of the three children who were slowly ascending the stairs. Her steps almost a run, she had opened her mouth to call out when the dark spirit suddenly disappeared.

Turning in the direction of the housekeeper, Nanny called out, "Did you need something, Mrs. Hughes?"

Finding herself without an answer, Elsie glanced up to find a worried Sybil hovering at her side, but managed to force a smile as she turned back to the four faces looking down at her from the landing. "No. No. Nothing."

Returning the kind look, Nanny was beginning to lead the children on when she suddenly stopped to pick up a cloth doll that lay on the floor in front of her. "This must be yours, Miss Marigold. You don't have a doll like this, do you, Miss Sybbie?"

"It's not mine," Sybbie confirmed.

Pulling the offered doll to her chest, Marigold smiled happily as the foursome continued on towards the nursery.

Elsie waited until the children and Nanny were out of sight before turning back in the direction of the green baize door where the youngest Crawley daughter waited for her.

The beautiful spirit's voice was little more than a whisper, but Elsie's keen hearing understood the words: "It was a bad thing wasn't it, Mrs. Hughes?"

"It was, but I'll keep them safe lass, I promise," she whispered with a smile before passing into the stairwell, her finger pulsing and twitching as her mind spun.

The housekeeping would wait, the witch had much to prepare.


	2. A Taste of Honey

**A far more lengthy chapter, this one contains a real spell and then several little ones I just made up.**

 **Am so delighted by the response thus far. Thank you! Thank you!**

 **Disclaimer: They are JF's characters and all that jazz, but in regards to the magic- I am doing some research, but most of this is taken completely out of context of any sort of real magical practice. It isn't meant to offend or educate, merely entertain. -Jen**

* * *

Although she hadn't cracked the spine of the old book in many a year, she knew exactly where it was. Removing three identical black leather volumes, she pulled a fourth from the bottom drawer of her desk, her tingling hands moving nimbly as she slipped a mottled covered tome from within the faux linen rota's cover.

Her lips whispered a prayer to St. Michael to protect the house and its inhabitants from forces of evil as she gently turned the pages, her eyes scanning through a litany of incantations, charms, and spells written in various hands from the women of her special lineage who had added and edited the grimoire that now resided with the last in their line.

… _prepare us for battle and protect us against the wickedness and snares of the devil…_

The words flew from her lips with ease. While she had, for the most part, refrained from using even the most practical forms of magic during her time at the Abbey, prayer was as natural to the woman as breathing. Along with controlling her own gifts, Beatrice MacDougall had also instilled in her granddaughter a strong sense of faith which Elsie practiced in a very personal, yet almost constant way.

She was half-way through the book when she happened upon the spell she sought. Closing her eyes tightly as she repeated the incantation over and over in her head, she took a deep breath before slipping the folio back into its hiding place and tucking it into the drawer. Relieved in the knowledge that she had access to the physical items necessary to bring the spell to fruition, she stopped briefly in the kitchen to let Mrs. Patmore know she would be spending some time in the green house if anyone needed her.

The little cook was up to her elbows in pastry and merely gave her friend a quick nod and kind smile before jamming her little fist into ball of dough before her. "If you're of mind, a handful of parsley wouldn't go amiss."

Agreeing to fulfill the request, Elsie slipped on her coat before making her way out of the backdoor. A glance to her right offered an instant sense of relief as she observed the gardener and his assistant deep in conversation as they surveyed a particularly scraggly looking bit of shrubbery. The greenhouse was quiet and still as she slipped into its warmth, but she didn't bother removing her coat as she made her way to the back corner of the immense structure to pull a nondescript wooden box from under a low shelf.

Her hand instantly found the key she sought among the other keys and tools that hung from her chatelaine. Slipping the warm metal from its loop, she pushed the key into the lock and felt the slight buzz that resulted when two enchanted objects were joined. With no effort from Elsie, the lid slowly lifted and a series of hinged compartments unfolded before her to reveal a myriad of herbs, small branches, and stones, as well as a set of tools tucked in beside a mortar and pestle in the deepest compartment of the box.

Having glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was quite alone, she whispered the words:

 _For my use in protection I call to hand_

 _Ash boughs to ward off evil in the land_

A small bundle of twigs gathered together by a small leather cord soon presented itself and landed gently on the ground at her side. Another glance secured her privacy and she called for the remaining items.

 _Nails of iron I need to pocket_

 _And a mullein leaf to enclose in my locket_

Reaching down the neck of her dress, Elsie retrieved the silver locket which had been given to her by her grandmother on her deathbed, its provenance unknown given its primitive appearance, not to mention the smattering of small teeth marks earned as the offspring of her family had chosen it as a convenient teething implement over the generations. Stopping briefly to pluck a small velvet bag containing a smattering of iron nails from the air, she tucked the item in her dress pocket before opening the metal hinge of the locket and delicately plucking from the air the small silver leaf which rotated in front of her. Enclosing the leaf inside, she paused and closed her eyes before whispering:

 _Thanks to the goddess for these things_

 _With humble gratitude I spread my wings_

The box quietly closed and tucked itself back under the shelf.

She had just stopped at the large planter of parsley when the gardener's young assistant stepped into the green house. "May I help, Mrs. Hughes?"

Feeling the cool metal of the locket against her skin, as well as the weight of the nails in her dress pocket and the ash branches in her coat's, she gave the young man a kind smile. "Thank you, Jeremy, but no. I am gathering some parsley for Mrs. Patmore." A nod offered and a burlap sack of mulch thrown over his shoulder, she watched the young man leave before she cut a healthy handful of parsley as she mumbled, "…and gathering a few bits and bobs before I begin enchanting the Abbey against evil spirits."

* * *

Lady Edith and Bertie in London, Lady Mary visiting tenants, Mr. Talbot and Mr. Branson in town at their motor works, and his Lord and her Ladyship attending a ceremony for the hospital in York, the house was fairly quiet as the staff attended to their assignments with due diligence under Mr. Branson's watchful eye. Donning a white glove, Elsie appeared to be doing nothing more than her duty as she carried a small stepstool throughout the house, placing bits of ash twigs over various doorways before standing under the lintels and whispering the incantation:

 _I stand_

 _In circles_

 _Of light_

 _That nothing_

 _May cross_

She encountered a few glances, but the various maids who crossed her path only nodded and smiled as they hoped the housekeeper wasn't coming away with a sullied glove as she inspected the doorways.

She saved her final and largest branch for the nursery. Gently knocking on the door, she opened it to find Nanny combing Sybbie's hair as groggy, but happy George and Marigold played in the floor.

"I'm sorry to bother, but I thought they would most likely be waking from their naps."

"You're timing is perfect, Mrs. Hughes," Nanny assured her.

Having prepared for the moment, the housekeeper's face was bright as she offered, "I thought you all might like a visit to the kitchen. Mrs. Patmore has a fresh batch of shortbread that needs eating. Any volunteers?"

All three children smiled brightly, their little faces obediently turning to Nanny with hopeful looks.

"Well, as long as I get a piece, too, I don't see the harm." The kind, white haired woman gave Sybbie's shoulder a gentle squeeze as she rose from her place in the rocking chair. "We'd best go now or we'll spoil our dinner."

George and Sybbie waited happily next to Mrs. Hughes outside the door as Marigold turned to fetch her new doll from the bed.

"Why don't you leave your dolly to rest up here, Miss Marigold? We don't want her getting lost on the way to the kitchen, do we?"

Marigold paused for a moment, but soon shook her head in agreement with Nanny's wishes. Tucking the cloth baby under a light blanket, she soon skipped under the threshold to join her cousins.

"Mrs. Hughes, are you coming?" Elsie looked up to see Lady Sybil brushing her hand over her daughter's glossy locks as she gave the housekeeper a thankful look.

"I'm afraid I have a few more chores, but I will be down to join you directly, Miss Sybbie." She watched the children practically bounce down the corridor. The group now out of sight, she turned to look at the spirit of the young mother. "I've enchanted all of the major doorways, but I haven't seen it again. It shouldn't be able to cross the thresh holds of any of the rooms the children or the family inhabit, or the servant's quarters or the downstairs. Hopefully I can secure it to one spot before I have to call on Reverend Travis."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you."

Elsie nodded with a kind smile, "Of course. Now you should get down to the kitchen. You're missing all the fun." She watched Sybil's figure glide away before retrieving the step stool she had hidden around the corner. Her branch in place, she had just stepped into the middle of the doorway when she felt a sudden chill and a shiver up her spine. She quickly scanned the room for any sign of the spirit, but found nothing.

"What is it?"

She couldn't help but smile as she looked up to find the lanky specter of William Mason watching her from several yards away.

"Hello, William. I haven't seen you in a while." She watched the young man's kind face slip into a sad smile. "She's in love and I find it hard to watch."

Elsie nodded with understanding. "He's a kind lad, if that is any consolation, and I think she is very happy."

"He is. I know he is."

She bit her bottom lip before offering, "And he is a great help to your father."

The young man tried to smile, but Elsie could detect his sadness as she watched his figure begin to fade. "He could never take your place, William, not in your father's eyes, but he is kind and decent and he cares for them both. It is a good thing, lad."

His form brightened slightly. "I'm glad. I am. It's just hard to watch."

She nodded. "I know, love." She took a few steps towards him. "Have you seen anything unusual in the corridors or your wing? Something dark?"

The young man shook his head. "I don't think so, but I'll ask Pamuk."

"Thank you." She was watching him drift back towards the wing which housed the room he inhabited when she softly spoke. "Her happiness won't make her forget you, William."

He halted and hung in the air momentarily before continuing on his way.

Stepping back into place under the lintel, she still felt the chill once more, but convinced herself it was no more than a draft to which she would see was attended. Her spell complete, she gathered her stepstool and breathed a small sigh of relief. The spirit might still be near, but she felt sure it could not harm any of those who inhabited the house.

* * *

Dinner only being served that evening to the Talbot's and Mr. Branson, Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter each assured her that things were well in hand. Feeling surprisingly energetic and decidedly eager to see Charles, she opted to skip the servant's dinner and dine with her husband instead. She had just slipped out the backdoor when she saw the distinctive outline of a large figure with his hands clasped behind his back pacing near the garage doors.

"Good evening, Mr. Carson. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The figure in the distance stopped and looked in her direction. "I plan on escorting you home every evening, Mrs. Carson."

She smiled at his use of her married name. "I am not keen on the idea of you walking over in the dark every night."

"And I am even less keen on the idea of you walking home alone in the dark every night. You will have an escort."

They met in the middle of the yard, a grateful smile filling each of their faces as they basked in the other's presence.

"I might have been two, or even three more hours, Charlie. It's cold. You should have come inside."

He shook his head as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "I didn't want him to think I was intruding."

"He did well and it was a quiet day. I hope you didn't worry too much."

They were almost to the large tree when he admitted, "I did worry. I suppose I will for some time, but more than worrying, I missed you."

"I'm sorry you were lonely." She squeezed his arm, but was surprised when he stopped short and turned to face her.

Looking into her eyes which caught the newly appeared moon over his shoulder, he pulled her tightly to him.

"Charlie…" she whispered his name as she tightened her grip on his arm. "What is it, love?"

"It wasn't just loneliness. I missed _you_. We haven't spent time apart since the season before Lady Rose's. Even when we weren't in the same room, I knew you were always near."

She lifted her gloved hand to his cheek, "My sweet husband. I expected you to say you were bored, but…"

"But you didn't expect me to miss you?"

"Is it wrong to say I am flattered?" She grinned up at him.

He patted her hand as they returned to their journey. "Flattered by my misery?"

"I stepped behind my chair for breakfast and my chest literally ached to know you weren't going to be on my left. I felt cold and empty and I wanted to cry."

Charles glanced down at her. "But you didn't?"

"No." She shook her head. "I didn't. I just reminded myself that tonight I would be able to turn to my left and curl up against you in bed all night long."

"I'll have to remember that strategy when I am missing you tomorrow."

Elsie moved closer to him, leaning her head against his arm as they approached the cottage. "Quick dinner and then an early night?"

Fishing his keys from his pocket, he reached over with his free hand and squeezed hers as they stopped in front of the cottage's door. "An excellent plan, Elsie." He paused before turning the knob, his gaze returning to her face. "What's different? Your hair? Something's different."

She shook her head and smiled. "Nothing different. I'm just happy to see my husband."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder and you more lovely."

"Thank you, but your lovely wife is freezing, so please open the door!"

* * *

He had insisted on doing the dishes, going as far as shooing her towards the stairs with a tea towel. "Nothing we own is so precious that we can't replace it if I lose my grip. Now go take a hot bath and relax. I showered after I went into the village this afternoon."

Elsie was halfway up the stairs when she suddenly thought of her encounter with William earlier in the afternoon. Her stomach twisted into a knot as she thought of how difficult it would be to have to watch Charles falling in love with another woman. Her need for him suddenly overtook her and she found herself crossing back into the kitchen, her arms snaking around his middle as she placed a kiss against his waist coat backing.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "This isn't the bathtub, my dear Mrs. Carson."

"I just need to hold you for a minute."

Drying his hands, he lifted an arm so she could slip under and lean against the side of his chest. "What's this?"

"If something were to happen to me, do you think you would want to marry again? I mean, now that you know what it is like to _be_ married."

He stared at her for a moment, his heart stopping as he assumed an implication. "Is there…are you…are you alright, Elsie? Is there something wrong?"

Regretting having asked the question and scaring him, she shook her head adamantly. "I'm fine, Charlie. I'm just fine. Nothing's wrong and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just thinking about Daisy and Andy. I wonder if it would bother William to know that she had fallen in love with someone."

"Would you?"

"Would I marry again?"

Charles nodded, reaching over and turning off the water.

"No."

He fought the urge to smile. "No?"

"I can't imagine being able to find what we have with someone else. I asked you first, by the way."

"My wife answered for me. I feel the same way."

Elsie wrapped her arms more tightly around him. "Sorry I brought it up."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm not. It's one more thing I'll console myself with while I miss you tomorrow. Now please go take a bath so I don't have to crawl into our bed alone."

* * *

She slipped into the hot water, willing the tension of the day's events to unravel from her muscles and her mind, but the quiet and solitude of the bath seemed to only compound her worries. She was keeping a tremendous secret from the person she loved more than anyone else in the world, but how would her black and white, God-fearing, law abiding husband take the news that his wife could not only see ghosts, but happened to be a powerful witch?

"He'd leave you." She whispered the words to herself as she closed her eyes tightly, tears streaming from their corners. Swallowing hard, she consoled herself with the fact that she had managed to keep her powerful secret unknown the entire twenty-seven years she had spent in Downton. In all that time, she reminded herself, she had managed to live without calling on the Goddess. She clenched her hands into fists, unable to lie to herself. There had been once, but she now knew if she hadn't, her heart would have been irrevocably broken. Besides, she reminded herself, the Goddess had exacted her cost and Elsie had barely survived the harrowing two months.

"But you did. You survived." She pushed herself forcefully into a seated position before wetting a small flannel and lathering it. Staring into space, she rubbed ferociously at her skin as though her efforts might result in cleansing herself of the memories that haunted her, as well as the demon which now dwelt among her friends and employers in the large house less than a mile away.

Her ministrations were interrupted by a soft rap on the door. "Are you almost finished, love?"

"Almost." She called out, grateful for the distraction. Quickly rinsing off, she pulled the plug from the tub and pushed herself up onto her feet. Wrapping the towel around her, she stepped out and turned to face the mirror. A gasp escaped her lips as she noticed the glaeme.

It had been so long since she had performed magic, she had forgotten the consequence of the activity. Closing her eyes, she quickly recalled the short verse that would hide the soft glow which now emanated from her every pore.

 _Contain the glow, contain the shine_

 _Let no mere mortal witness…_

"Do you want…" His head appearing from around the door, Charles stopped mid-sentence as he took in the sight of his illuminated wife.

"… _mine"_

With the final word uttered, Elsie's skin returned to its natural porcelain complexion. "Do I want?"

"Did you…what was that? It was like you were lit up from inside."

She forced a laugh. "I think you are seeing things. No lights. Just plain old me."

He continue to stare as he crossed into the room. "I swear…"

"Your wife is no glow worm, Mr. Carson. I think we're both just tired. Long day." She ran her hand up the front of the vest to which he had dressed down. "Now what were you going to ask me?"

He wrapped his hand around hers, his face still bearing a confused countenance as his glance danced over her arms and shoulders. "Do you want me to light the bedroom fireplace or just pull out another quilt? It's getting colder each night."

"Don't bother with a fire. Another quilt will do just fine. We'll keep each other warm."

Her words earned her a light squeeze on her bottom.

"You did miss me." She let out a throaty chuckle as she patted his chest.

"More than you will ever know."

His gentle growl sent a shiver through her. "Take me to bed, Charlie."

* * *

The room was cold, but Elsie soon forgot about the temperature as she watched her husband pull his vest over his head and slip out of his trousers and underwear.

Gently peeling back the edges of the towel, he allowed himself an indulgent sweep over her naked form now lit only by the silver moonlight spilling through their bedroom window. "You are always lovely, Elsie, but tonight, I don't know. Even in just this bit of moonlight you are radiant."

"Sweetheart…"

"Don't wear a gown tonight, please."

She nodded, backing up until her thighs met the mattress behind her. "I need you."

One of his large hands slid up her back as his other cupped her cheek. "Lay back, sweetheart."

The warmth of his body heated hers as he leaned over her, his lips lightly kissing hers before moving over her delicate collar bone and inching down towards her breasts. Her legs wrapping around the back of his thighs, she was running her fingernails through his hair when he lifted his head to look at her.

"You taste different."

Her eyes widened, unsure whether his comment was a criticism or compliment. "What do you mean?"

He leaned down and sniffed her neck before placing his lips against her jawline. A smile filled his face, but it was tinged with curiosity. "I don't know how to explain it. You taste…sweeter. You smell sweeter. Like you took a bath in honey." His mouth returned to its previous activity, but with more wont and determination. "I can't get enough of you, Elsie."

While his attention was gloriously pleasurable, Elsie couldn't shake a slightly guilty feeling. She was unsure whether the change in her skin's smell and taste was the disguising spell or just the use of magic itself, but she was changed. Her appearance had also altered. Her hair was more lustrous, her skin more radiant and smooth. She had seen it in her reflection in the mirror after she had contained the glaeme, but she couldn't deny something had changed about her. She felt different inside, as well; rejuvenated somehow.

Her husband's mouth trailing down between her breasts and towards her stomach, she bit her bottom lip as she ran her hands over his shoulders. "Come back and kiss me, my love." The tip of his impressive nose sliding up her torso, Elsie shuddered as she felt his fingers dancing against her sensitive center. "Kiss me, darling, please."

Their mouths meeting in a frenzy, Elsie lost control of her body as his tongue explored the inside of her mouth with an exquisite pressure that matched his fingers. Her eyes were shut tightly as the most intense wave of pleasure she had ever felt suddenly coursed through her body, but she immediately sensed something was wrong from the feeling of Charles' body tensing up against hers.

Every light in the house was suddenly on.

"What in the world?" Charles moved to stand, leaving his wife shuddering and cold on top of the still made bed.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, watching her husband slip into his dressing gown.

"I'm sorry, love. I just want to make sure there isn't some sort of short that might cause a fire. It might be best to just turn the power completely off."

She nodded, pulling the extra quilt from the far end of the bed to cover herself. "I'm sure it is something simple. We can have someone come look at it tomorrow." She waited until she could no longer hear her husband's steps on the stairs before laying back against the bed, her hand running through her soft, silky hair. "Or your wife practiced magic and opened Pandora's Box in the process."

She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to remember what had happened the last time she had practiced strong magic. Nothing. Well, she had noticed a glaeme after she bathed, but just like tonight she had used the disguising spell and no one was the wiser. What was different this time?

She was deeply in love.

She rolled back onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. "You never taught me about this part, Gran."

The lights suddenly cut off and she was left in the spill of moonbeams that poured across the bed.

 _You turned down Joe, and then after Becky's accident you chose a life in service, my little lamb. I assumed you didn't need to know the about the curse of Aphrodite._

Her grandmother's voice was soft and distant, but Elsie could still make out every word.

"But I _am_ in love and I need to know."

 _Goodness is rewarded. You used your magic for good today. You have been gifted by Aphrodite in a manner correlating to your efforts. Your man will find you more alluring since you used your power. He is going to find out, love, but if he loves you as much as you love him, it won't matter. You have to tell him, my darling._

Elsie shook her head. "It isn't possible."

 _You're a witch, my angel. Anything is possible._

Charles was standing in the doorway looking at her. "Did you say something, sweetheart?"

She pushed herself from the bed, shaking her head as she turned away and began pulling back the bedclothes. "Not a thing. You must be freezing. Come give us a cuddle."

His voice was low as he wrapped his arms around her naked waist and kissed her shoulder. "Can't we pick up where we left off?"

She turned and loosened the tie around his waist before slipping the dressing gown off his shoulders. "You have quite beautifully attended to my needs, Charlie. It is my turn to attend to yours."

He began to protest, but a gentle nudge from his wife soon had him beneath the covers, her soft body draped over his as she placed light kisses on his chest. Her left hand in control of the lower half of his body, she ran her right thumb gently over his lips until he used his own hand to guide the sweet taste of her skin into his mouth. Shifting to his other side she whispered, "That's better. Now you're on my left." Slipping her thumb from his mouth, she moved her right hand to join her left as she pressed her lips to his. She felt her index finger begin to tingle and she cautiously ran the tip down her husband's length before grasping him fully once more. Opening her eyes, she pulled back and smiled at the sound of her husband groaning deeply and the sight of his face as he came completely undone in her hand.

* * *

Forcing herself out of bed, Elsie was bathed, dressed and out the door before Charles had even stirred. Her walk to the Abbey was cold, but enjoyable as she warmed herself with memories of the night before. She had just entered the back yard of the house when Andy burst from the backdoor.

"Mrs. Hughes! It's Miss Marigold! She's missing!"


	3. She Knows

He slid his hand across the cool, smooth sheet, but found no warmth on his wife's side of the bed. Turning his head in that direction, he opened his eyes only to squeeze them shut immediately in response to the bright morning light pouring in through the bedroom window.

"Good God, what time is it?" Shielding his eyes with his hand, he tried to lift his head to look at the small alarm clock that now rested on Elsie's bedside table, but let it drop back to the pillow as a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. "Ughhh…" Forcing himself in the direction of her side, he stopped as his face came into contact with her pillow, her honey-like fragrance lingering on the case instantly soothing his aching head. While still deeply inhaling the fabric, he managed to open one eye and read 7:54 on the clock's small white face.

He had to blink several times to believe what he was seeing. He hadn't slept past 5:30 in the morning in longer than he could remember. Had he been drunk the night before? He could only remember drinking one glass of wine with dinner and he specifically remembered drinking a large glass of water in the middle night to hydrate after the wonderful nocturnal activities with his wife. His wife. The thought of the beautiful woman he had held in his arms the night before brought a delicious smile to his face. He had indeed been drunk. Drunk on Elsie.

He inhaled deeply against the pillow once more which inspired him to bolt upright in bed. He'd surprise her. He would pack a picnic lunch and steal her away from the Abbey for an hour. His feet hit the cold floor which clearly illustrated the folly of his plan. Though sunny, the weather was more than chilly and not at all feasible for a leisurely picnic. Pushing himself up with a sigh he made his way towards the bathroom door, pausing momentarily to run his fingers over the soft chenille dressing gown Elsie kept hung on a peg. Pulling the intoxicating material against his face, his mind began to race as he tried to conjure some sort of excuse that would allow him to see her.

The sound of the telephone ringing jarred him from his musings and he begrudgingly parted from the pink fabric to make his way downstairs.

"Carson residence, Charles Carson speaking."

"I'm so glad I caught you."

The sound of his wife's voice sent a warm rush through his body and he felt slightly dizzy. "Hello, sweetheart."

She gave a light laugh before explaining, "You might not call me _sweetheart_ when you hear why I'm calling. Would it be possible for you to spend the day here?"

"At the Abbey? What's wrong? What's happened?"

She lowered her voice and adapted her most soothing tone. "We had a bit of a scare this morning, but everything is alright. I'll explain more when you get here, if you are willing to come, that is."

The thought of being needed at the Abbey _and_ spending the day near Elsie thrilled him to the point that he had to take a deep breath before answering. "Of course I am willing to come. I have to dress, but I will head that way directly."

"You're still in your pajamas?" The shock in Elsie's voice was unmistakable.

"If you recall, I didn't manage to put on my pajamas last night."

She gasped into the receiver. "You're standing in the middle of the cottage naked…"

"As a jaybird." Her giggle pleased him and he added, "Apparently my wife bewitched me last night and I suppose I needed a few extra hours of sleep to recover."

His choice of words caught her off-guard and she was quiet for a moment. "I'm pleased you are coming."

"Half an hour."

He could hear the smile in Elsie's voice as she answered, "Hurry."

* * *

The house had been in a panic when Elsie had followed Andy into the house. Servants and family alike were rushing around searching and calling out for the little girl who had last been seen tucked up in her bed at three a.m.

Nanny was hysterical, her hands shaking as she wept. "She was there. She was in her little bed. I know she was. I lifted her doll from the floor and tucked it in with her. She was there…"

Andy had mostly filled in the housekeeper regarding the situation by the time they reached the green baize door and Elsie had to feign interest in what he was saying as William and Sybil swept to either side of her.

"She's asleep in the back of the closet in Pamuk's room. He's watching over her until you can go and find her." William offered before Sybil cut in.

"He said he didn't see her enter and the bedroom door never opened so he doesn't know how she got inside, but he heard whispering and when he entered the closet Marigold was sitting there in the floor against the wall with a doll and then she just curled up and went to sleep."

Elsie's gaze fixed on Andy as she took in the information provided by Sybil and William, she managed a slight nod of her head in acknowledgement of the news. "I think we should check all the rooms once more. Look in every wardrobe, every closet, and under every bed. Come with me. We'll assign wings and floors to the others on our way to the far side of the house."

* * *

Having given directions to most of the staff, including an obedient Mr. Barrow, as well as Mr. Branson and the Talbots, Elsie stopped short as she and Andy arrived at the far guest wing. "You take that end and I'll take the other." Waiting for Andy to disappear into the room Pamuk now haunted, Elsie quickly made her way to other end of the corridor.

Standing still for the first time she arrived at the house, she allowed herself to consider what she had been pushing aside in her mind. She had no inkling how, but the entity she had seen the day before and Marigold's current situation had to be related.

Her bottom lip firmly rooted between her teeth, she was grasping at straws when she heard Andy call out from down the corridor.

"I've got her!"

A tremendous sense of relief filled the housekeeper as she found the girl to be smiling as she clutched her doll to her chest, looking up at Andy as he cradled her in his arms while a pleased Pamuk floated just outside the bedroom door.

"She's fine, Mrs. Hughes! She seems just fine."

"Oh, Andy! Thank you!" Elsie rushed towards them, a relieved smile on her face. "You have given us all a bit of a fright Miss Marigold. Are you alright?" She gently rubbed the little girl's bare feet with her hands. "You don't seem too cold. How did you end up so far from the nursery, petal?"

The little girl merely grinned and shook her head as she nuzzled up against Andy's chest.

"Let's get you back to Donk and Granny. Maybe you will feel like talking then."

* * *

The little girl remaining mum, although bright and cheerful in attitude, the details regarding her disappearance remained a mystery. The puzzled staff and family had settled down within the hour after she was discovered, with the exception of Nanny who was given a sedative and taken to one of the unused bedrooms on the women's side in the attics as Daisy stepped in to watch over the little ones until a plan could be made in regards to their care for the day.

Andy's ears were a bright red as he was called "hero" and "St. Andrew" by the staff who had gathered in the servant's hall to partake in a quick breakfast before the bells began to ring. Elsie was just finishing a cup of tea in her sitting room when Miss Baxter appeared in the doorway. "Her ladyship would like a word if you have the time, Mrs. Hughes. She has an idea regarding the children."

* * *

"I've just gotten off the phone with Edith and convinced her that she and Bertie needn't rush back from London just because Marigold did a bit of sleep walking."

The housekeeper smiled at her employer. "Very good, milady. Miss Baxter said you had an idea regarding who might watch over them today?"

"If I wasn't committed to a trip to Thirsk with Mrs. Crawley on behalf of the hospital I would do it myself, but Edith said she would truly only feel comfortable if _you_ would stay with the children."

Elsie looked at her in surprise. "Me, milady?"

"She knows how taken Marigold, well, all the children are with you…"

In truth, Elsie thought she would quite enjoy spending the day among the children, but the wards she cast the day before had quite eaten into her workload and she was woefully behind with her ledgers, not to mention the fact that she wanted to give a thorough inspection to Mr. Pamuk's room. "I am quite touched that she would think of me, milady…" She had an epiphany mid-sentence. "…but with all I have to do today, I wonder if you think Lady Edith might be content with Mr. Carson in my stead?"

A large smile filled Cora Crawley's face. "I think she would be delighted, but are you sure he would be willing to care for them? The poor man has had only one real day of retirement."

"Leave him to me, milady."

* * *

Hearing the sound of his feet crunching along the pebbled path, Elsie ducked from behind the big tree to meet him just beyond the house. "Hello, husband."

His pace picked up as he caught sight of his smiling wife making her way towards him. "Hello, wife."

Upon reflection, neither had made the first move, but had simultaneously joined, lips meeting as their arms wrapped around one another.

Elsie was the first to pull back, her own actions surprising her as much as his. "Goodness. We're near the house, Charlie…"

"I wish we were near _our_ house. You taste so good. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and last night."

She pushed her hand against his chest, her cheeks warming with a blush as she stared at his tie. "Last night was…"

"Yes?" His face suddenly turned grave as he feared she regretted their activities of the night before. "Did I offend you? I won't…"

"Oh, Charlie, I wasn't offended." She squeezed his hand as they began their trek towards the Abbey. "It was surprising and…frank and…passionate and wonderful."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, good. I was worried I had done something wrong."

Stopping just outside the back yard, she turned to him. "You could never do anything wrong, my love. Never. But enough about that for now…I suppose you would like to hear about the excitement and the task for which I have volunteered you."

* * *

Refraining from sharing the details William and Sybil had offered, Elsie soon had Charles in the picture regarding the morning's lost lamb.

"So she was walking in her sleep?" Sitting in Elsie's desk chair, Charles sipped the cup of tea proffered by Mrs. Patmore after he greeted some of the staff upon his initial arrival.

Bending over the desk next to him as she made a short list of to-dos, his wife nodded. "Her Ladyship thinks that is the case. Poor Nanny is beside herself and has been put to bed."

"And I am to be the sad substitute in her stead?"

"You are to be the treat, Mr. Carson. Mr. Branson mentioned to the children that you might be the one staying with them today and Sybbie squealed with delight and George and Marigold each clapped. You've quite a fan club."

"I don't know about that…"

Elsie reached over and squeezed his arm. "Well I certainly do. I happen to be its leader."

Setting his cup and saucer on the desk, Charles wrapped his arm around her waist. "I am happy to do whatever you would like me to do today, Elsie, as long as I get to see you now and then."

She blushed, but leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose before scooting out of his reach. "The door is open, Charlie."

"But you _do_ promise to visit the nursery when you can?" He ran his hand over her chatelaine and continued over her knee as he wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"You best behave, Mr. Carson. You're positively twinkly this morning."

Smiling at her comment, he offered, "I feel positively twinkly. I'm getting to see you."

As flattered as she was by his attention, her stomach still twisted as she considered the part her recent magical practices were playing in her husband's behavior. "But I mustn't neglect my duties, love."

"All work and no play makes Elsie a dull girl."

She shook her head as she pulled him to his feet. "Who are you and what have you done with the curmudgeonly butler who used to roam these halls?"

"I suppose you get to be the clown when you don't have to be the ring master."

His words surprised her, but she refrained from commenting with more than, "Well, come along, silly man. There are children anxiously awaiting your attention."

* * *

Mr. Barrow was waiting outside the door of the nursery as Elsie and Charles approached. "Good morning, Mr. Carson. It is good of you to join us on such short notice."

The young man's voice absent of any vitriol, the former butler gave his replacement a kind nod. "Anything I can do to help."

Daisy stuck her head out of the door and let out a playful sigh of relief. "Good morning, Mr. Carson. Am I glad to see you!"

Elsie laughed as she followed her husband into the room. "Are they running you ragged, Daisy?"

"Master George wants to play hide and seek, Miss Sybbie wants to play school and Miss Marigold wants to play dress up, and I can't manage to do all three, I'm afraid."

Stepping into the middle of the room and taking a look around, Charles quickly took command of the situation. "From what I understand there has been quite enough hide and seek played around here lately. Now, spit spot and hop to, my charges. We are going on an adventure."

Elsie, Daisy, and Thomas exchanged looks as the three children jumped to their feet and quickly formed a line in front of the large man who soon began to pace back in forth in front of them. "Now, let's see…I suppose everyone is going to need a magic hat to wear on our adventure." Reaching over into a small trunk, he plucked out and placed on Marigold's bed an old black bowler, a pale yellow, floppy brimmed sun hat, a set of wired white and pink felt bunny ears, a green felt cloche, and a gray cowboy hat Tom had brought George back from the trip to the states. "Now, I am going to pick a number between one and ten and whisper it in Daisy's ear. You will each choose a number and the one closest to mine will pick which hat they want to wear and then the next closest after that and so on until all the hats are gone."

Daisy noted, "There are five hats, Mr. Carson."

He looked at her incredulously. "I am leading this exposition, surely I deserve a hat, as well."

Elsie laughed, "That still leaves one."

He gave her a small grin and raised an eyebrow. "I had rather hoped a certain housekeeper might join us for at least a little bit of our adventure."

A glance over at a smiling Mr. Barrow confirmed her decision that she could spare a little time in the company of her husband and his mates. "Well, perhaps just the first leg of this journey."

A tug on his coat by Sybbie shook Charles from his dreamy gaze at his wife. "You've not whispered the number to Daisy, Mr. Carson."

"So I haven't, Miss Sybbie. I shall do that now."

Daisy now in the know, Charles pointed at the youngest of the group. "What is your guess, Miss Marigold?"

"Eight."

Sybbie chose five, George two and Elsie nine.

"Well, Daisy, what did I whisper in your ear?"

"Four."

Sybbie bounced up and down. "I win!"

"You do, then Master George, Miss Marigold, and finally Els-Mrs. Hughes."

Grinning with delight and surprise at his accidental use of her first name, Elsie gave the children a wink before she added, "Which means Mr. Carson gets whatever is left."

Within a few minutes, Sybbie wore the floppy sun hat, George the cowboy hat, and Marigold the cloche.

Daisy and Thomas laughed as they watched Elsie glance back and forth between the bunny ears and bowler.

"Hmmm…..decisions, decisions…"

Charles grimaced as he watched her playfully parade her power. "You do remember those vows, do you not? Honor and obey?"

"I'm not sure our wedding vows apply to head wear, Mr. Carson."

Watching her lift a hand in the direction of the bowler, Charles whispered, "You wouldn't dare."

Biting her bottom lip, she plucked the hat from the bed and pushed it down onto her head. "Oh, but I would."

* * *

Making their way down the stairwell with Charles in front, followed by Sybbie, George, Marigold, and Elsie bringing up the rear, the group soon encountered Lord Grantham returning from the front door after seeing off his wife.

Taking in the vision of the tall, proud silver haired man who had long been the arbiter of manner and decorum within the walls of the his home, Robert Crawley broke into a wide smile. "To whom do I owe a debt of gratitude for what I am witnessing at this very moment?"

"I believe that would be me, milord." Elsie tipped her bowler hat in her employer's direction. "I had two choices of chapeau and Mr. Carson has had to make do with my rejection."

"Ahh, well, you chose wisely, Mrs. Hughes, although, I must say, Carson, you rather pull that off."

His pride and dry sense of humor not deserting him, Charles nodded. "Thank you, milord."

"And where is this motley crew headed, if I may ask?"

"We're on an adventure, Donk!" George waved his oversized Stetson over his head.

"Indeed, well, I wish you Godspeed and fair weather."

Sybil's soft form floating down from the second floor so that she hovered only inches away from her father's shoulder as she regarded the troupe, Elsie smiled sweetly at the young woman whose laughter only she could hear.

"Thank you, milord. We shall venture forth with your good wishes." Charles turned and gave the group a sharp nod before leading them towards the dining room.

Stopping as his lordship stepped in her direction, Elsie looked up to find a puzzled smile on his lips. "Is this your doing?"

"Not at all, milord. It was entirely Mr. Carson's idea. I have no idea what we are doing or where we are going."

"How very surprising, but what an utterly delightful concept."

* * *

"Now, remember how I said these are our magic hats?" Charles was stopped in front of the door to the Grand Hall, eager eyes on him as all four of his followers nodded. "Well, they are magic because you need only think of what you want to be and you can magically become just that. Think about being a dog and you can bark and run and pant. Think about being..."

"A monkey!" Sybbie called out.

"Indeed. Think about being a monkey and you can _oooh oooh_ and _eeh eeh_ and swing your arms about." Charles playfully demonstrated what he described to the delight of his audience. "Now. We are going into the hall to work our magic. You are free to run, crawl, jump, slither…whatever you wish. The only rules are no running into one another, no climbing the furniture, and…" His eyes grew big as he leaned down towards the children. "…no tickling Mrs. Hughes because she will become quite silly."

The children giggled as they glanced up at a blushing Elsie.

"Very funny, Mr. Carson."

"Alright. On the count of three. One..two…three…Go!" He threw open the door and watched the children run inside only to stop in the middle of the room and turn back to look at him.

"What do we do?" Ever the ring leader, Sybbie spoke out.

"You play! Be a frog. Be an airplane. Be one of Lady Mary's pigs!"

Wide smiles filled the children's faces as they each began to oink and snort, falling to their hands and knees and crawling around.

Elsie shook her head. "They would all choose to be those silly pigs."

Pigs became chickens and chickens became cats until the children finally grew confident enough to branch out on their own.

Laughing at the youngsters' exploits while the specters of William and Sybil happily floated around the room, the housekeeper and temporary childminder wandered about, their hands linked and steps in sync.

"Whatever made you think of this?" Elsie whispered as Marigold hopped around their legs like a kangaroo.

"I'm not sure, really. I knew I couldn't be cooped up in that room with them all day or we'd all go mad. It's too cold to stay outside for long and I knew there was nothing going on in the hall so it seemed like an ideal place for them to work off some excess energy."

"But the hats and using their imagination?"

"Ah, well. When I was small, I stayed at my grandmother's house and I had the choice of sitting next to her on the settee and watching her knit or escaping outside and entertaining myself."

"And you would use your imagination to pretend you were different animals?"

He nodded. "Or a pirate or a soldier or something like that."

"Clever boy. And the hats?"

"I saw them in the trunk and knew Marigold had wanted to play dress up. It never hurts to have a prop when using one's imagination."

Elsie shook her head with a grin. "I never knew my husband was so creative."

"Our imaginations are the only real magic we have."

She willed herself not to react to his comment although a wave of guilt once again overtook her as she was reminded of the tremendous secret she was withholding from him. Looking for a distraction she urged him, "Tell me more."

"The circus came to town once and I saw a man covered in grease paint juggling and I became convinced I was destined to be clown."

"Which led to becoming one of the Cheerful Charlies?"

"Exactly."

Elsie gave his hand a squeeze. "So when did the clown become the ring master?"

He inhaled deeply as he looked around the room. "When a girl broke his heart and he forgot what it was to have fun."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My beautiful wife is helping me remember."

* * *

After a picnic lunch in the floor of the hall, Andy joined the Carson's as they each carried one of the exhausted children upstairs for a nap. Their hats each hanging on the end of the bed posts, the children were soon fast asleep in the quiet room.

Charles beginning to doze in the rocking chair, Elsie was tiptoeing towards the door when heard a sudden whimper from the direction of Marigold's bed. "What is it, poppet?"

"My baby. I need my baby."

Elsie soon spotted the rag doll under the edge of the bed. Picking it up, she was overcome with the same strange chill and shiver up her spine she had felt the day before.

Marigold reached up and snatched the doll from Elsie's hands. "Don't touch her, witch!"

Elsie recoiled at the child's hissed whisper.

"The bones are stirred. Lucy knows and she's coming for you."

Staring in horror at the little girl, Elsie watched the child's pinched, angry countenance suddenly melt into a sweet smile.

"Night, night."

A sudden pop and a blaze of light coming from the light fixture above her head, a trembling Elsie looked back over her shoulder to find the evil specter flying around the room, spinning around Charles and the sleeping bodies of the other children. Her mouth open in terror, the spirit suddenly dove in her direction, whirling around her like a cyclone. The sound of brutal screams rang in her ears as the burst of dark energy suddenly careened into her chest. Brought to her knees, she managed to gasp the word "Charles" before everything went black.


	4. Visitors

"Use your wrist and turn as you press, lamb. We want all the essence to be expelled from within the leaves."

Looking down, the hands she saw were her own, but they were the soft, unblemished fingers of a seven year-old Elsie, not her sixty year old self. Lifting her eyes to gaze around the room, she instantly recognized the hanging bunches of dried flowers, herbs, berries and seeds which had always been suspended from an iron trellis that took up the majority of the overhead space of her grandmother's stillroom.

"Very good, pet. Very good. We want our offering to the Goddess to be as potent as possible for tonight."

While she hadn't stood in the small anteroom at the back of her grandparent's farm house for more than forty years, the scent of soothing lemon balm, cinnamon, rosemary, eucalyptus, lavender and dozens of other flora mixed to give her nose a familiar tickle as she recongized the memory she was now inhabiting.

A hit of Sulphur permeated through the wall of herbs as she heard her grandmother strike a match before lighting a small white candle as she stood on the other side of the large butcher block table on which she had always cut, crushed, grated, and ground the elements that she used in creating potions to assist the ill, the downtrodden, and the dying.

 _We send out our light and energy to the Goddess as we beseech her to take this precious child into her bosom and guard her heart and mind from any and all evil._

Gran's powerful voice ringing in her ears, Elsie was suddenly no longer in the stillroom, but found herself standing in a small clearing in the middle of the woods surrounded by the familiar faces of Marjorie Prim, Eulalia Goodwin, Mercy Merriweather, and Constance Paul. Smiling down at her, the members of her grandmother's coven all began to whisper along with Gran's commanding voice:

 _Those of pure heart need not fear for they are protected and shielded by the Goddess. Diana, we call to you and beseech your power in protecting our sister Elsie May Hughes._

A sudden thrill issuing through her body, she felt the energy pool in her chest as she closed her eyes tightly and whispered, "Thanks be to the Goddess."

* * *

Her eyes opened to find bright sunshine spilling in from a nearby window; her surroundings of white fabric partition walls and the antiseptic smell of alcohol in the air a stark contrast to the lush and fragrant Scottish woods in which she had just been standing.

"Welcome back. You're in the village hospital, Mrs. Hughes."

Glancing down at the warm, soft hand that held hers, she recognized the gentle voice she had just heard. "Lady Merton?" Her throat was parched and the words came out in a croak.

"Here. Have a sip of water."

Isobel's eyes were kind as she proffered a small glass. "It's a little after eight in the morning. You've been out for almost eighteen hours."

She gratefully swallowed the cool, refreshing liquid as she tried to command her nerves and determine the least compromising way to ask what the nurse thought had happened to her.

Sensing Elsie's panic, Isobel gave a quick look over her shoulder before whispering, "You've a bit of a glaeme, but it isn't very strong and I am the only one who is aware."

Elsie's eyes opened wide as she digested what the woman had just said. "You...you know about…"

A grin crossed the gentle woman's face. "My aunt. My mother's older sister. She was a healer. She'd always have a bit of a glow after she'd attended to someone. It was common knowledge in our family- her gifts, but we were forbidden to mention it outside of our home. You've always reminded me of her and now I know why."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"I will gladly be your confidant, Mrs. Hughes, and your secret is certainly safe with me." Isobel assured her. "Now, can you tell me what happened yesterday afternoon?"

"Are they alright? Is Marigold alright?"

"Just fine, as far as I know. Mr. Carson, George, and Sybbie woke up when they heard you fall, but Marigold didn't stir. She slept until almost supper, but when I stopped by the nursery last night, they were all quite happy and healthy."

There were so many questions Elsie needed answered, but chief on her mind was the doll. "Do you remember Marigold having a baby? Was she carrying a rag doll when you saw her?"

Isobel shook her head. "I don't remember seeing one, but there are so many toys…"

"It's no toy."

Elsie shared everything that had transpired in the Abbey since she had first spotted the demon, including the wards she had cast, Marigold's disappearance and discovery, and what had happened when she had picked up the doll the afternoon before.

"She was possessed?"

Taking another sip of water, she nodded. "For a moment. The demon was hiding in the doll and then transferred to Marigold when she took her from my hand. It then flew about the room before entering my chest."

"May I?" Isobel reached down and gently unbuttoned the top three buttons of Elsie's night gown. "I think it _tried_ to enter your chest, but it couldn't. See this?"

A dark red whelp lay over her heart and to the left of the silver locket which hung around her neck.

"I think it struck you here, but something wouldn't let it pass."

Elsie smiled as she remembered her grandmother's words:

… _and guard her heart and mind from any and all evil…_

"When I was seven and taken into my grandmother's coven, they performed a ceremony which gave me protection by the Goddess."

Isobel smiled and nodded. "For which I am very glad, but I am afraid I don't know how to explain the marks presence to Mr. Carson, or Dr. Clarkson, for that matter."

Resting her hand over her heart, she thought for a few moments. "I hate to lie, but perhaps I can just attribute it to running into something during the search for Marigold."

A smile filled the nurse's face as she nodded. "That should do it. As for your fall and remaining unconscious, Dr. Clarkson is attributing it to dehydration and a slight anemia in tandem with the stress and excitement of yesterday morning."

Elsie let out a grateful sigh. "Thank goodness. Do you think he will keep me here long? I need to get back to the house as soon as possible. That _thing_ is still there so I need to cast more wards and protections."

"The glaeme makes you look the picture of health so I am sure Dr. Clarkson will release you as soon as he examines you, but getting your husband to let you go immediately back to work is going to take some doing. I don't know that I have ever seen anyone son worried. He didn't leave your side all night long."

Sighing as she glanced over at the chair her husband had undoubtedly spent an uncomfortable night in, she whispered, "I hate that he was made to worry."

"He went home only an hour ago to shower and change clothes. I expect him back any minute." She paused, but suddenly sat on Elsie's bed. "I'm sorry, but I can't help but ask. You said you mentioned you can see spirits. William and Sybil? They told you about Marigold being in the closet. I…have you ever…"

"I used to, but now only in my dreams." Elsie patted the woman's hand as she smiled sadly. "I met him in the churchyard near his headstone many times during the first few years after it happened, but he has moved on…"

"Since she married?"

She nodded at the woman's downcast face. "He came and visited me in my dreams the night after the wedding and told me he was ready to make the transition to the next place. He's still here in many ways. In your heart, in hers. And he's certainly always with Master George, but seeing her happy…he told me he was ready to go."

Isobel wiped away a few tears.

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were someone with whom I could talk. You don't know how terribly guilty I feel about being able to see and talk to them."

"It's a gift. You've no need to feel guilty about an ability with which you were born, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie gave Isobel's hand a squeeze. "It meant so much to him that you visited his grave so often. He told me how much he enjoyed your visits, and he was pleased that Lord Merton visited, as well."

Confusion filled the woman's face. "Dickie never visited with me."

"He went alone several times. Mr. Crawley told me he even asked for a sign that he had his blessing in asking for your hand." Watching Isobel smile through a cascade of tears, Elsie offered, "He told me if he could have given one to Lord Merton he would have. He was sure he would make you happy."

"Thank you." Isobel whispered as she fought to regain her composure. "You don't know what it means to hear that." Moving back towards the opening in the partition as Elsie leaned back against her pillow, Isobel wiped her eyes as she changed the subject. "Now, your worried husband should be along any moment. He will be so relieved to see you awake…"

"Yes, he is. Quite relieved."

Charles' voice was a whisper as he appeared in the small opening between partition walls, his eyes glistening as he gazed at his wife.

"I'll let Dr. Clarkson know you are awake." Discreetly squeezing Charles' arm as she passed, she gave him a gentle smile before sliding the partition closed in an effort to give them as much privacy as possible.

"Please don't ever do that to me again." Charles' voice trembled as he reached down and cupped Elsie's cheeks in his hands.

Wrapping her hands around his, she nodded, her eyes batting away a smattering of tears as she whispered, "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

"Shhhh…you've no need to apologize." He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss before asking, "How do you feel?"

In truth, she felt quite wonderful. She was experiencing no pain or even stiffness, although she had been in the same position for the last eighteen hours. "I feel alright. Ready to go home…"

"Which is where you will be staying for the rest of the week. I've already spoken with her Ladyship and Miss Baxter…"

Her words came out in a cascade. "I have to go back to the Abbey, Charles. I have too much to do. The supplies and the linen ro-"

"Will be seen to by Miss Baxter," he firmly stated. "She needs the practice in preparation for your retirement."

Elsie felt a tightening in her chest as he mentioned the word. "But we've decided I'm not retiring for two more…"

He waved his hand in dismissal of her words. "That was before yesterday. There is no reason for you to continue working. We are welcome to stay in the cottage for as long as we'd like and we can sell the house on Brounker…"

"Sell it? But it's our investment property!"

Charles sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. "We don't need it."

"But Becky…"

"Will be taken care of. You've no need to fear on that account. We don't need the house. We're alright financially without it, and anyway, it was really only a means to an end."

She gave him a puzzled look. "A means to what end?"

"It got me you."

She was quiet as she studied his kind eyes and considered his words. "You know you could have just asked me outright. I would have said yes."

"I needed something to offer you. I wasn't sure you would want me for me."

She pushed herself up in the bed, wrapping her arms around him. "You are all I ever wanted." She rested her head against his shoulder as she whispered, "I promise I won't exert myself, Charlie, but I really do need to take care of some things."

He pulled back and opened his mouth to protest, but she raised her fingers to his lips.

"I'll only work half days and I can do most of what I need to do from my desk."

He shook his head, sighing deeply at her insistence. "You need to stay home the rest of today and we'll see how you feel in the morning before we decide about the rest of the week."

Taking a deep breath, she offered a compromise. "As long as we can stop by on our way home. I want to pick up a few things in my sitting room and give Miss Baxter a few instructions."

"Five minutes. We will stop for five minutes and then you are going home and getting into bed, Mrs. Carson."

Smiling, she nodded in agreement, happy he couldn't see the fingers she had crossed beneath the blankets.

* * *

Released with Dr. Clarkson's good wishes, her hand was firmly wrapped in Charles' as she was climbing into the backseat of the car kindly sent by Lady Grantham when she noticed two old women standing on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. Had she not glimpsed their faces only hours ago in the deep Scottish wood, she wouldn't have recognized Mercy Merriweather and Eulalia Goodwin who each smiled as they locked eyes with Elsie.

"It can't be…"

Charles gently rubbed her arm as he asked, "It can't be?"

Elsie whipped around, her mind spinning as she struggled to come up with a plausible answer. "It can't be almost noon. I've lost all concept of time."

"You must be hungry." Her husband wrapped his arms around her shoulder. "We should be in time for the servant's lunch and I wager Mrs. Patmore will wrap something up to take home."

She barely heard his words as she considered how two women who had to be at least 125 years old could be standing in the village square. Turning back, her heart sunk to find they had vanished.

Her lack of answer concerning him, Charles' tightened his grip on her hand as he declared, "I think we should skip the Abbey. You need more rest."

Knowing she couldn't leave the Abbey unprotected, she managed a bright smile as she reassured her husband. "I'm fine, love. A few minutes won't hurt and we can assure everyone I'm quite alright."

He gave his head a small shake, but acquiesced. "Just don't over-do, please, love." He leaned over and kissed her head before adding, "I'm not sure how you managed it, but no one should look as lovely as you do having just left the hospital."

"Flatterer." She gave a light laugh, but tried to catch a glimpse of herself in the car's rearview mirror, fearful he was commenting on the glaeme that Isobel had mentioned, but her reflection seemed to only suggest a healthy glow, rather than something other-worldly.

* * *

The large house loomed against the horizon as the couple looked out the passenger window, each garnering strong, but varied feelings at the sight.

"Will you miss it, Elsie?"

She considered his question along with a thought to the potential challenges she now faced within its walls before looking up at him with a loving smile. "No, I think my husband will provide enough of a distraction to keep me from missing it." She looked back up at the house as they pulled into the drive and added, "I just want to leave it with a sense of peace."

* * *

Many smiles and well wishes greeted them as they stopped by the servant's hall just as Daisy was pouring water into glasses for those assembling for the staff's luncheon. Assuring everyone she was quite alright and, to her husband's dismay, that she would be back in post the next day, she soon directed her attention at the head of the table and steeled herself to work a kind of magic she hadn't attempted in more than forty years.

The chatter in the room around her dissipated as she focused on Thomas Barrow and silently incanted:

 _The chamber in which the vine does dwell_

 _Take the man who knows it well_

 _Missing vessels of Germanic kind_

 _Take time for among the blanc you will find_

"Mr. Carson, I don't mean to concern you, but I was inventorying the Rieslings last night and there seem to be a few bottles misplaced. I don't suppose you could spare a few moments to help me track them down?"

Elsie watched her husband's face fill with pride at the thought of being needed by Mr. Barrow, but his bright eyes dimmed as he turned to her. "How do you feel?"

Smiling, she offered, "Quite well enough for you to spend a few minutes in the wine cellar with Mr. Barrow."

He gave her hand a quick squeeze as he promised, "Won't be long."

Nodding, she waited until the butlers had disappeared from sight before hastily making her way up the back stairwell towards the nursery.

* * *

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes! We are all so delighted to see you!" Nanny's face held a bright smile as she watched all three of the children rush to the happy figure standing in the doorway.

"Thank you and I am quite delighted to see all of you." Inhaling deeply, she bent down and managed to get her arms around all three of the children, her hands meeting behind Sybbie's back so that the trio was securely encircled. Calling again on her powerful gifts, she mentally cast:

 _Three innocents I beseech protection from harm_

 _If evil should approach them send out alarm_

She felt a surge of energy rush through her arms as a pale aura suddenly began to pulse around the forms of all three children. Certain the spell had taken, she unclasped her hands and looked down at the smiling faces. "I'm sorry if I scared you yesterday. I think I had just had too much fun with you and Mr. Carson."

Sybbie beckoned with her little hand for Elsie to lean down closer. Their faces close together, the little girl kissed her cheek. "To make you feel better."

Receiving a kiss and the same wish from George and Marigold, she bit her lip to quell the tears forming in her eyes in reaction to their sweetness. "I hope you all have a very good day with Nanny and I will see you tomorrow."

Watching the children return to their activities, she gave a glance around the room before crossing to Nanny and whispering, "Do you know where Marigold's doll is? The little rag one?"

The woman looked at her strangely. "I don't know of any rag doll. She has been playing with Betsy." Nanny motioned with her head towards an exquisite and expensive china doll resting in a nearby cradle.

Turning to the children she asked, "Do you remember a soft little doll with painted gold hair and a blue dress? I thought you had a baby like that, Miss Marigold." Her question earned her a puzzled look from all three children as they shook their heads. A realization hitting her, she turned back to Nanny. "Perhaps I am remembering a doll Miss Sybil had when she was little. No matter."

* * *

Managing to journey to the middle of the entry without meeting anyone on her way, she waited a few moments for Sybil and William to find her. Each floating from opposite ends of the house, she beckoned the spirits towards a far corner before explaining, "I've cast a protection spell on each of the children and I am going to attempt to ward the entire house, although I think the demon is gone. The doll has disappeared, as has any recollection of it by Nanny or the children. It is as if it never existed."

"But she had it with her in the closet. Pamuk saw her." William insisted.

Sybil was quick to add, "And I saw it the day the demon flew about in here. Nanny picked it up off the floor."

Elsie quickly nodded, "You're right. We didn't imagine it. It definitely was here, but the doll served its purpose and I think it was charmed in such a way that it would disappear from mortal knowledge once it had."

William spoke first. "It's purpose?"

"It was sent to wake something or someone."

"Who would send a demon into the house?" Sybil's face was filled with fear.

"It could only be another witch. I've no idea who and it is a dark magic I know little about. Have either of you seen or heard anything?"

The specters were shaking their heads when the ghost of Pamuk suddenly drifted down from the second floor. "There's wailing in the walls in my wing. It's a woman. She's saying something, but I can't understand her. Something about her child."

Elsie was surprised to see the gentleman who rarely left the room into which his corpse had been carried many years before. "When did you first hear it?"

"Last night. It seems to be coming from somewhere deep within the house. I searched all the rooms on that end, but didn't see anyone and I haven't heard it since the sun came up."

"Thank you, Mr. Pamuk. I'm afraid I can't stay much longer, but I will be back first thing in the morning. Will you please let me know if you hear or see anything else? And you two, as well?"

All three spirits nodded before drifting away.

Making her way to the front doors, Elsie placed a hand on either side of the door jamb as she wove a spell.

 _Peace and safety from floor to rafter I cast_

 _No harm come to those living within, nor those of the past_

She felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins as the spell took effect. Pulling back, she looked down to find her hands glowing brightly. Whispering the disguising spell, she watched the glaeme fade before making her way towards the green baize door.

* * *

he Rieslings safely returned to their place in the cellar, Elsie listened to Charles grumble about the Rieslings being mixed in with the Chardonnay during their short ride back to the cottage. Patting his hand as they pulled up to the front door, she assured him, "I'm sure Mr. Barrow will take extra care that such a mistake doesn't occur again."

With thanks given to the driver, the couple made their way into the house.

"Strange to be here in the afternoon." She glanced around their sitting room which she had rarely seen cast in the light of day.

"But nice?" Charles wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her neck.

Enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin, she murmured, "Very nice."

Forcing himself to pull away, he sighed deeply. "You need to rest."

Looking up at her husband's hungry eyes, she ran her hand along his tie as she shook her head. "I've been unconscious for the majority of the last day. I'm not at all tired, Charlie, but I know you must be exhausted."

Pulling her to him, he whispered into her ear, "Then put me to bed, Elsie."

* * *

Her husband snoring in his sound sleep, Elsie extracted her naked form from beneath his, slipping into the lavatory to take a much needed bath.

Her ministrations undoing the weave of her disguising spell, she was beginning to repeat the charm when she felt a sudden pull towards the kitchen. Slipping on her chenille dressing gown, she tiptoed down the stairs to find Mercy and Eulalia with their backs to her as they stood whispering together in front of the aga.

Her white springy curls suddenly waving like an insects antennae around her plump face, Eulalia lifted her head and gave a sniff to the air. "Honey. We could always tell when you'd healed a bird wing or tended a scratch on your sister's knee because you'd smell of honey after." She turned around to find a glowing Elsie smiling at her from the doorway. "I see you've finally decided to put your gifts to use again, lass?"

"Gran sent you?"

A stark contrast to her companion, the stick thin, straight haired Mercy nodded. "You're a powerful witch, Elsie, but you've not used your skills in some time. She thought you could use some help."

Acknowledging the truth in the old witch's statement, Elsie shared her fears. "Someone, another witch, let a demon into my other home. It's awakened something, but I don't know what and someone called Lucy is coming for me."

Mercy gave her kind smile as she moved across the room to take Elsie's hands. "Then we'd best be prepared for when she does."


	5. Tethered

**A lot of information in this one which I hope answers some questions, while not giving away everything.**

 **Your reviews are amazing and inspiring. I thank you for staying with me and this dear witch.**

* * *

"Still sleeping."

Mercy and Eulalia looked up from the sofa as Elsie made her way down the stairs.

"And your man has no idea about your witchcraft or that you can see spirits. Remarkable." The curly headed witch shook her head with a smile as she glanced over at a grinning Mercy.

"I've not practiced magic, well noticeable magic since I've lived in Downton, and Charles and I only married last year."

"Will you tell him?" Mercy watched Elsie's face fall as she heard the question.

"I couldn't. He wouldn't…he isn't the sort of man who would understand."

Eulalia moved over and nodded for Elsie to sit in the space she had created between her and Mercy. "But he loves you, doesn't he?"

"Oh yes! Very much, as I do him."

Mercy finished comprising a list on a scroll in her lap before looking up at the younger witch. "But you _are_ tethered to him, as Beatrice was to your grandfather?"

Elsie's thoughts drifted back to her wedding night when she had slipped out into the Scarborough night and lit a candle before drawing a circle with chalk on a large flat stone and placing inside of it her offerings to the Goddess. "I did practice the ritual the night after we consummated our marriage, so yes, we are tethered."

"So you chose to give up longevity for this man, but you aren't willing to be completely honest with him?"

Eulalia's words stung, but Elsie lifted her chin as she answered. "It wasn't much of a choice. I wouldn't want to continue living in a world where I couldn't hold him and feel him and I love him too much to hurt him with the truth."

"A lovely sentiment, but he will find out, lamb. Just the small bit of magic you have performed over the last few days has changed you. You can't tell us he hasn't noticed?"

She bit her lip before answering Mercy's question. "I hadn't quite disguised the glaeme the other night when he walked in on me and he saw it, but I convinced him it was just his imagination."

"It won't be the last time he catches you out, Elsie. You try to convince him it is just his imagination one too many times and he will be certain he is going quite mad. Do you think that very fair?"

Elsie wrung her hands as she looked over her shoulder towards the stairwell before turning back to the women. "Even if he didn't run for the hills when I told him, I would have to explain why I refrained from using magic for so many years and about…"

Mercy placed her hand on top of Elsie's. "You did nothing wrong, Elsie. It was an accident. It was just an accident. Goodness knows you have punished yourself and paid penance long enough for something that was not in your control."

"I don't want to talk about Becky."

Eulalia patted her back. "Very well, pet. We won't speak of it, but the fact remains, you are becoming your truest self the more magic you use and given what you might be facing in that house, you will only be using more and more of it. Love strengthens your powers, Elsie, and we don't know what this Lucy is or what she can do so you need to be as powerful as possible. Love is the key. Eulalia and I were half the witches we are now before we met one another."

Elsie couldn't help but smile as the women exchanged loving looks, but her countenance fell as she considered what they were proposing. "It's just so much and I don't want to change. He doesn't respond well to it. I only want to keep the house and everyone in it safe."

"And so you shall," Mercy assured her. "However, up until now you have been relying on your heart and gut only. You have to put your mind to use as well, and if you are having to worry about hiding your truth from the person closest to you, you won't be thinking clearly when you take this on. As for changing, you aren't becoming a different person. It's as Eulalia said. You are simply becoming the truest you. It's a good thing, lamb, and it is all Bea ever wanted for you."

"That and for you to find love." Eulalia added. "You can't have both without your man knowing about your power, Elsie. Bea was scared to tell Louis, but his love was stronger than his fear. If he is your true love, it will be within him to accept and continue loving you as he always has. Do you not trust his love?"

Memories of Charles singing "Dashing Away With the Smoothing Iron," their first kiss in his pantry, and the way he had looked at her when they first laid together on their wedding night flashed through her head. "I do. I trust his love."

"Then trust him, as well, and yourself by telling him."

The sound of two large feet hitting the floor above them drew all three women to theirs.

"We will be off." Eulalia announced as she and Mercy summoned their cloaks from the pegs near the front door. "We're staying at the Grantham Arms tonight, but we'll be within summoning distance of the Abbey tomorrow in case you need us."

"I wish I could offer you our guest room."

Eulalia shook her head with a giggle. "And what would you tell your husband, 'Oh by the way, dear, we've two old women who should have been dead ages ago sharing a bed next door?' Don't give it a second thought, lamb. We'll be quite comfortable at the Inn."

Mercy gave Elsie a wink. "They stock my fair lady's favorite whiskey is what she really means."

"Enough you," the curly headed witch chided.

Elsie gave each of the women a kiss on the cheek before leading them to the front door. "Thank you for coming by. I feel better knowing you're near."

"Study these defensive spells when you can." Mercy offered as she slipped a scroll into Elsie's hand before opening the door. "And tell that big husband of yours. You owe it to yourself."

* * *

Leaning against the counter as she waited for the kettle to whistle, Elsie was so engrossed in studying the list of defensive spells she didn't hear Charles' tread on the stairs.

"I was disappointed to wake up without you."

His deep voice startled her, but she managed a bright smile while discretely tucking the list into the pocket of her dressing gown as he made his way across the kitchen. "Did you have a good rest?"

"Wonderful. I dreamed we were back at the seaside wading in the surf."

"Mmmmm…" She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "That sounds lovely."

"It was. You were keeping me steady."

Elsie let out a little laugh as he leaned down for a kiss. "You've quite a memory, Mr. Carson."

Caressing her lips with his, he let out a low moan before letting his forehead rest against hers. "It was a memorable moment, Mrs. Carson."

"Oh yes?"

"It was when I finally acknowledged to myself how very much in love I was with you and that I couldn't imagine my life without you by my side."

Elsie held her breath as they continued to gaze at one another.

"And I knew that by hook or by crook, I was going to make sure we would be together for the rest of our lives."

"Do you mean that? You can't imagine a life without me?"

Charles lifted his head. "I wouldn't want to try."

"Even if you found out something… _unexpected_ about me?"

"What do you mean?" His smile was full of curiosity as he searched her face.

The kettle whistle offered her a reprieve and she murmured a light, "Nothing. It doesn't matter," as she made her way to the stove and turned off the burner.

Watching the dressing gown hug his wife's curves as she reached into the cabinet to retrieve two cups, Charles moved behind her and slipped his right hand up the side of her rib cage before sliding it inside her robe to fondle her breast. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "Can the tea wait, love?"

Elsie let out a little moan as his fingers brushed over her taught nipple. "Twice in one day, Charlie? What's come over you?"

"I'm in love with my beautiful wife." He used his left hand to gently urge her around to face him, his right hand moving from her breast to untie the knot holding her dressing gown in place. "You're so sweet, Elsie. So, so sweet." His lips were kissing down her neck and over her collar bone when he suddenly pulled back. "What's this?"

Looking down, she remembered the red mark. "Oh, I hit my chest on one of the low bed posts when we were looking for Marigold. It's nothing." She cupped his cheek as she explained.

"Odd that it is still red and not a bruise by now." Charles continued to study the injury. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not a bit."

Leaning over, he gently pressed his lips to his wife's chest.

"Shall we move up to the bedroom?" she asked as she ran her hand through his tousled hair before reaching down and untying his dressing gown.

His hands moving around her waist and turning her around, he guided her past the dining room table before sitting on the sofa she had recently occupied with Eulalia and Mercy. "I want you here." He pulled the robe from her body before grasping her hips. "I want to see you."

Grinning and blushing, she acquiesced to her husband's wishes and was soon straddling his lap. "Is this what you want?"

Groaning as Elsie eased herself down over his arousal, his hands moved to cup her cheeks as he pulled her face to his for a kiss. "You. I want you. I love you."

"No matter what?" Her face was serious as she pulled back to look him in the eye.

"Always. No matter what I'll always love you, Elsie."

* * *

A quilt pulled over them, the couple lay spooned together on the sofa as night blanketed the room in darkness.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Charlie?"

He gave a chuckle as he began to gently sweep his fingers up and down her bare arm. "Do I believe in ghosts? No, my darling. No, I do not believe in ghosts."

"What if I told you I did?"

He pulled her closer to him and gently kissed behind her ear. "I would say you have a very vivid imagination and try to talk some sense into you."

Elsie took a deep breath before turning over to face him. "Your father knows it was you who broke the shed window when you were twelve even though your mother said it was her to save you from his strap."

Charles remained frozen for a few seconds before leaning back from her. "What? What do you…When did I tell you that? I don't remember telling you that."

Elsie shook her head. "You never told me you broke a window when you were a boy, Charlie." She bit her bottom lip as she felt his body tense against hers as he struggled to digest what she was saying. "Your parents told me. I visit them when I go to the churchyard on Wednesday afternoons." His hands pulling away from where they had rested on her lower back, she quickly moved her hand to the back of his head. "It's alright. You don't need to be scared. It's just something I have always been able to do."

Charles pulled her hand away before pushing himself up from his reclined position to move to the far end of the sofa. "Are you angry with me? Did I do something to upset you? Why would you tease me like this?"

"I'm not teasing you, darling. I need to tell you this. I have so many things to tell you."

Shaking his head, he scrambled to find a reason for her behavior. "I'm calling Dr. Clarkson. You must have hit your head when you fell. " He was attempting to stand when Elsie placed her hand on his arm.

"Wait. I didn't hit my head. Please, just listen to me."

"You aren't well, Elsie." He was off the couch and pulling on his dressing gown when she moved to stand in front of him and began to sing.

 _Oh he's bonny, my lad_

 _The image of his dad_

 _And you'd love him, too_

 _If my Charlie you knew_

He froze, staring at her as she finished the little verse.

"How could I know that if your mother hadn't told me? Only you and she knew the song she made up to sing you to sleep, right? How else could I know it if she hadn't told me?"

Charles covered his face with his hands as he began to weep. "I must have…I must…"

"You didn't. You know you never told me. Sit down, please, love. You're trembling."

"I don't know…why…"

Elsie gently led him back to the sofa and draped the quilt over his shivering body before slipping on her dressing gown. "Shhh…I'm sorry. I know. It's strange and it's scary, but please just listen, darling. I have so much to tell you."

Sitting beside him, her heart ached as he scooted away from her.

"There has to be a reason. You found a journal she kept? You met someone who knew her?"

"Sometimes the least obvious answer is the truest." Her voice was soft as she looked up at him.

"So you can talk to dead people. What else? Do you howl at a full moon? Can you levitate? Bend spoons with your mind?"

"No, yes, and probably, but I don't really see the point unless you wish to have a drawer full of bent cutlery."

He shot her a contemptuous look. "You said there was more. What? What other horrors do you wish to torment me with tonight?"

Elsie's lip began to tremble as she realized Charles was taking the news as badly as she feared he might, or perhaps even worse. "Do you remember what you said to me an hour ago? I looked into your eyes after you said, "I love you," and I asked, "No matter what?" and you said…"

His eyes drifted to his lap. "Always. No matter what I'll always love you."

"I'm telling you the what, Charlie. I've hidden it and ignored it and pretended it wasn't me, but I can't do that anymore. Things are at stake. Lives and souls and I don't know…"

"Elsie?"

Standing, she untied and removed her dressing gown as she whispered:

 _Reverse the charm to unleash the glow_

 _Glaeme revealed thy true self show_

Shining a little more dimly than it had just after her bath, Elsie's body still glimmered brightly in the dark sitting room.

The table lamp fell to the floor with a crash as Charles fumbled in the opposite direction from his wife. "Stop it! Just stop it! Whatever it is, stop it now!"

Calmly walking over to the wall, Elsie pushed the light switch so that the entire room was illuminated. "I glow when I've cast any sort of powerful spell. It's called a glaeme. I cast protective spells on the children and the house itself today while you were in the wine cellar and this glow is the result. Someone sent a demon into the Abbey and it has woken someone or something deep within the walls which has issued a threat towards me. I have no choice but to defend myself and the only way I can do that is with magic because I am a witch. I can't fly. My only use for a broom is to sweep the floor. I don't worship the devil. I do believe in God and I love you, but I, like my grandmother before me, _am_ a witch, Charles."

She managed to spit out the word "halt" in time to keep her husband's unconscious body from hitting the floor.

* * *

He awoke in their bed, his body feeling light and refreshed as though he had slept a solid eight hours. He closed his eyes for a moment as a series of recent memories flooded his brain, but let out a little laugh and shook his head as he assured himself it all been a very strange dream. His looked up with a smile as Elsie appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. "Hello, love."

She remained in place, her lip firmly rooted between her teeth.

"What are you doing all the way over there? Come here. What time is it?" Charles leaned over to read the clock on her bedside table. "Eight o'clock? I can't believe I've been asleep since this afternoon. You were the one meant to be resting…"

Elsie leaned against the door frame, her hands behind her back as she spoke. "You don't remember waking up a little after six?"

Charles glanced down at the bed, struggling to remember. "I didn't wake…I dreamed I woke up and I dreamed…"

"That we made love in the sitting room…"

He stared up at her. "What? How could you know what I dreamed?"

"Because it wasn't a dream."

He shook his head. "It was. None of that could have been real."

"In your dream, what was on my skin over my heart?"

He closed his eyes tightly before answering. "A red mark."

Elsie pulled down the nightgown she now wore to reveal the crimson injury. "You fainted after I told you what I am."

"Don't…stop…please."

"I kept you from hitting the floor and then I moved you up here into the bedroom. I did both those things with magic. This all happened twenty minutes ago."

"It's too much…" He held his head in his hands and began to cry.

"Oh, please don't cry, Charlie. Don't cry, my darling." Elsie swiftly crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't!" He cried as he pulled away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so that his feet were on the floor as he buried face in his hands.

Elsie curled up into a ball on her side of the bed. "What can I do? Tell me what I can do to make this better? What do you want me to say, Charles?"

He remained silent for nearly a minute before turning around and lying back down in the bed so that he mirrored her position. "I want you to take it all back. Tell me it was an elaborate joke and that we can continue living the life we were living two days ago."

She reached out and gently cupped his cheek. "I wish I could, but magic doesn't work that way."

He studied her face, sniffling as he noted, "You aren't glowing like earlier."

"I have a disguising spell. I didn't want to overwhelm you when you woke up."

"Show me again."

"You're sure?"

He wiped his eyes with his dressing gown sleeve and nodded.

Taking a deep breath as she gazed into his eyes, she whispered:

 _Reverse the charm to unleash the glow_

 _Glaeme revealed thy true self show_

He flinched slightly, but a look of wonder broke across his face. "What happens if I touch you?"

Elsie smiled. "My heart will race, but it always does that when you touch me."

Charles slowly lifted his hand towards her face and let his fingers gently dust along her jawline. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

"I know you've noticed a change in me- in my skin, in my hair, less lines on my face. In using my gifts, I am allowing my truest self to show."

He let his finger ghost over the smooth skin at the corner of her eye before sweeping them over her perfect cheek bones. "Are you growing younger?"

"No. Just truer- to myself and to who I really am."

"But you're still my Elise?"

"Of course, and I always will be. No magic could alter that." Leaning her face into his hand, she closed her eyes and a tear slid down her face which he caught on the tip of his finger.

Lifting the tear away from her face, he let out a small gasp. "It glows."

"Don't lose it." Elsie gently eased herself off the side of the bed and left the room for a moment. Returning with a lit candle and a needle from her sewing box, she sat down carefully next to him. "Do you still have it?"

He nodded.

"Do you trust me?"

He hesitated for the slightest moment before nodding again.

Holding the needle in the flame to sterilize it, she reached over and took his free hand in hers before giving the end of his index finger a prick.

"Elsie!"

"I'm sorry, but now hold the pricked finger against the tear, count to three and then pull them apart."

Doing as she bid, he waited three seconds and then separated his fingers. There was no trace of blood or the puncture wound.

"Witch's tears can heal small cuts and burns. I've used them to treat the staff for years."

Pushing himself closer to her, he asked, "What else? Tell me what else you can do."

A small flutter of relief made its way through her chest as she prepared to answer. "I can talk to animals and understand their thoughts, which is why I stay away from for them or otherwise I would have a menagerie following me around talking my ear off constantly."

He looked at her amazement.

"I can mend small bones like toes and fingers or birds wings…I can move things without touching them, even things in other rooms…"

Charles moved from the bed and disappeared for a moment before returning to the doorway. "Move the shilling sitting on the bedside table in the guest room."

Elsie grinned and gave her head a slight nod as she performed the task as Charles made his way back to the guest room.

"I said move it! Not make it disappear."

"Put your hand in your pocket."

Charles eyes were big as saucers and his smile matched upon his return to the bedroom. "Incredible."

"How do you think the Riesling became mixed with the other whites this morning?"

"You did that….but Barrow?"

"I've never cast a spell like I did this morning besides when my grandmother was tutoring me when I was young, but I can make people do simple things. I told Barrow to take you to the wine cellar to sort out the Riesling."

"You can bend people to your will and you don't?"

"It isn't like that. There are lines. Ethics. A cost is exacted when a witch performs magic that upsets the fates. Moving a few wine bottles so that my husband was distracted while I cast some protective spells didn't alter much in the world."

"Have you ever done anything that exacted a cost?"

"Only once."

"What was it?"

"It was a tale for another time."

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Elsie's pleading look led him to close it. "Do something else."

"I feel like a carnival side show, Charlie."

He climbed back into bed, lifting her hand into his as he studied her luminous fingers. "I'm sorry, but it's not every day you find out your wife is a witch."

Elsie lifted his chin with her free hand. "Tell me what you are thinking and feeling."

He bit the side of his cheek before answering. "I am thinking I owe you an apology for my behavior earlier and I am feeling…overwhelmed."

"You don't owe me an apology. I went about telling you in the wrong way, although I'm not quite sure what the right way would be and I don't blame you for being overwhelmed, love. I just turned your world upside down."

He ran his fingers over her left hand, gently rubbing back and forth over the gold band that graced her fourth finger. "You've talked to my parents?"

"And seen them. Remember when I left for a bit on the Christmas morning after our engagement?"

He nodded.

"I went to tell your mother you had proposed."

Tears filled Charles' eyes as he asked, "What did she say?"

"Took him long enough."

Charles let out a little laugh as a tear escaped his eye.

"They love you and are so very proud of the man that you are. I watched your mother across the churchyard the day of the War Memorial ceremony. She held her hand over her heart as you performed your reading. Oh, and she and your father were there when we came out of the church on our wedding day."

"They were?" He began to weep in earnest as she nodded.

"Remember how I slipped away just before we left for the school house?"

"I do remember you disappearing for a few minutes, but I was so overwhelmed by well-wishers, I never got to ask where you went."

"I pulled a bit of heather from my bouquet and put it on her grave and told her how proud I was to be your wife."

Charles pulled her to him, his hands stroking her back as they wept together.

Finally regaining their composure, her head was resting against his chest when he broke the silence filling the room. "Who else do you see and talk to?"

"Lady Sybil and William at the house. I talk to them daily. Mr. Pamuk on occasion, but mostly just Sybil and William."

"What do you talk about?"

"Oh, the same things we would talk about if they were alive, I suppose. Lady Sybil worries that Sybbie will have crooked teeth from sucking her thumb when she sleeps and William is heartbroken that Daisy is falling in love with Andy."

"That's why you came to me in the kitchen the other day and said what you did about marrying again? You had talked to William about Daisy and Andrew?"

Elsie nodded. "I think he will come around. It's just hard for him to have to watch. I would hate to lose his company, but perhaps when he sees her settled down and happy, he'll decide to move on to the next place."

"The next place?"

"Heaven I suppose is the most obvious way to refer to it. It's where souls go when they decide to let go of their earthly attachments. Mr. Crawley did just after Lady Mary married Mr. Talbot."

Charles shook his head. "But my parents haven't gone to the next place?"

"I've asked your mother about it. She said they are waiting for us. They are happy among their friends in the church yard, but when you and I are ready to go, they will, as well."

"You are sure to outlive me." He kissed her head. "It makes me happy to know I will be able to talk to you even after I die."

She pulled his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles before she spoke. "You won't have to wait."

"What?"

"We're tethered."

Charles wiggled down in the bed so that they were faces were even. "What do you mean we're _tethered_?"

"On our wedding night, I took a lock of each of our hair, tied them together in a knot and offered a white rose from my bouquet and the shilling I wore in my shoe to the Goddess. I had to recite an incantation to complete the ritual, but the Goddess accepted my offering. We are joined, or _tethered_ together beyond death."

"I still don't know what you mean."

"If you die first, I will die within a few days of you."

"You'll…Elsie, why would you do such a thing?"

"Life won't be worth living if I can't hold you in my arms or be held in yours. A witch can live to be more than two hundred years old. I wouldn't want to go on living so long without you."

"And if you die first?" He felt a literal pain in his chest as he forced himself to ask the question.

"You'll live out your natural life span and I will wait for you. Only the witch's life span is determined by the tether."

"But I wouldn't want to live without you, either."

Elsie leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Then we will just have to take care of each other so that we both live to a ripe old age."

The lay silent for several moments before Charles finally spoke. "Tell me about the house. You said a demon was let loose? What do you mean?"

Elsie spent the next half hour explaining to him in detail all that had transpired since the moment she had first seen the demon two days ago until earlier today when she discovered the doll had disappeared.

"So you think the demon is gone, as well?"

"I don't know. I did at first, but I don't truly know. I just know that this Lucy is what is scaring me most because I don't know what she is. There is also the matter of who sent the demon into the house. If I could determine who has a motive to bring harm into the house, I'd have a better grasp of what I am facing."

Charles gave a little shudder before asking, "You can't just call this Lucy out? Summon her somehow?"

"I've no control over things outside the earthly realm. Fire, wind, earth, water…these are somewhat within my control, but those who dwell in heaven and hell are not."

He pulled her body closer to his. "Are you scared?"

"A little, but Gran sent the last two living witches of her coven to help me. They were here this afternoon while you were asleep and gave me some defensive spells to practice."

"Defensive? What about offensive? Surely you need to know how to attack."

Elsie gave her head a shake. "It's an abuse of power to do the attacking. It's one of the first lessons a young witch is taught." She could hear her grandmother's voice in her ear as she repeated the lessons that had been instilled in her. "Powers are a gift to be used for good. Heal the sick and comfort the hurting. Protect yourself and the innocent among us. Use the gifts bestowed by the Goddess to alter the fates or harm another creature and a cost shall be exacted. With your gifts comes great responsibility. Always let your humanity determine your use of magic."

He nodded to suggest he understood. "You can't use your powers to alter the fates. So Anna and Mr. Bate's incarcerations…you couldn't intervene…"

"Because it would have affected too many lives. There would have been too many repercussions. It broke my heart to watch them struggle, but…"

"A cost would have been exacted in exchange."

Elsie nodded her head. "I can't heal the gravely ill or injured, either."

"So Miss Lavinia and Mr. Crawley…"

"And her Ladyship's unborn child and all the soldiers during the war...I did what everyone else did. I prayed for them," Elsie whispered.

He inhaled deeply before asking the question she had hoped he wouldn't. "Did you only pray for me when I had the Spanish Flu?"

"No. I made a choice to alter the fates."

His breath was ragged as he asked. "What cost was exacted in exchange for my life?"

"I was fortunate. The Goddess was forgiving. The lump in my breast was benign."

"Elsie…"

She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Shhhh…It's alright. Everything turned out alright."

"The crescent mark where Dr. Clarkson removed it..."

Elsie nodded. "It's the mark of the Goddess. It brands me for performing dark magic."

"You have to look at that every day and know that it was wrong…"

She interrupted him. "I look at it every day and know that I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving your life."

"With your gifts comes great responsibility." He moved his face to give her a lingering kiss.

Finding comfort in one another's body, the witch and her husband made love for the third time that day before each drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	6. Levitation

**Apologize profusely for taking so long to post something new. Has been a daunting week and my lack of imagination and sleep seem to be conspiring to make this story a most challenging piece to write.**

 **Eternal thanks to CsotA for being my cheerleader or you would be reading a letter of apology for my discontinuing the story, rather than a new chapter.**

* * *

"Mrs. Browning heard something when she was on the women's corridor earlier, Lucy, and Moira's coughing all the time, and when she's not coughing, she's crying. You have to get her to a doctor. It's not good for her to be locked up in that closet all day and night."

Lucy felt hot tears fall on her cheeks as she angrily whispered at her fellow housemaid behind the drawing room curtain. "I know, Jane! Don't you think I know? I'm doing the very best I can. I only need another few weeks." She gave her friend a pleading look, grabbing her hand as she insisted, "She has his eyes. Every day she looks more and more like him. Just a little while longer and I can prove she is his and then they will have no choice but to give me what is mine, what is hers, fair and square."

"My God, you are playing with fire Lucy. These people don't break easily. You push them too far and they will make you disappear. It will be like you and Moira never existed. You should go now. Promise him he will never have to see you or the baby again and he will give you the money to take her to a doctor and to go away. Go home to your family…"

"My family? My father would horse whip me, or worse, if I returned to Donegal with a baby and no man."

"Then somewhere new."

"And do what?"

The small brunette bit her lip as she looked up into her fair-haired friend's face. "Find a family who would take Moira and give her a good…"

"I'd die first, Jane! I'd die!"

The curtain whipped back and the two young women were face to face with a red-faced housekeeper who had overheard their entire conversation. "You will collect your things and your _child_ , Miss O'Brien, and you will never dare show your face in Downton or even so much as whisper the names _Grantham_ or _Crawley_ ever again. Am I understood?"

Lucy opened her mouth to argue, but the angry glare on the older woman's face forced her to shut it.

"And as for you, Jane, I would suggest you never utter a word of what you know or _think_ you know or I will find myself replacing two housemaids instead of one."

Mercy pulled her hand away from one of Downton Abbey's many drawing room windows, her handprint disappearing as the cold night air hit the warm glass.

"What? What did you see?" Eulalia rubbed Mercy's hand gently, knowing that looking into the past tended to drain all the warmth from her mate's body.

"Lucy worked here. She was a maid. Her name was Lucy O'Brien and she had a bastard child who was fathered by someone in the Crawley family."

"When was this?"

"I don't know. There was the smell of fresh cut wood in the air and I could hear the sound of banging in the background."

Eulalia's eyes danced with excitement. "We'll talk to Elsie. She or her man will know when there was construction at the house. It must have been a long time ago or they would have heard of this Lucy before now, don't you think?"

"I agree! Now let's get back to the inn, it's colder than a witch's…"

"Well, you'd know." Eulalia gave a little cackle as they began to make their way back towards the path in the direction of the village.

"Don't be vulgar, Eulie." Tightening her grip around her fellow witch's plump, soft hand she whispered, "Well, not until later, anyway."

* * *

It was early. She sensed it in the way the birds were only beginning to chirp outside their bedroom window. Prying one eye open, she confirmed her suspicions. Her husband was staring at her.

"Stop staring at me."

Charles broke into a silly grin. "I can't."

She pushed herself up so that her head was held up by her hand, her elbow bent and resting against her pillow. "Try."

"Do something."

Elsie let out a sigh, but couldn't help but smile. "Do what?"

"Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh at her husband's face as all of the linens on the bed abruptly whipped away from his naked body and floated gently onto her side.

"That is not exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh, alright." She leaned over and kissed his cheek as the blankets floated gently back over to cover his naked bum.

"Don't go to the house today."

She frowned and shook her head. "I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth. I'm fine. There is no reason for me not to, and besides, what if something happens?"

"You said you would be given some sort of alarm if anything endangered the children, right?"

She nodded reluctantly. "I will receive some sort of notice, yes."

"Then don't go. After the last few days no one could begrudge you more time to rest."

"But I've work…"

He snuggled closer to her under the covers. "That Miss Baxter can see to, not to mention Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, and besides they'll need to get…"

"Get used to when I retire." She finished his sentence. "I know…"

"I'll make the call and then we can discuss the day."

Elsie pushed herself up in bed as Charles climbed out of it on his way to slip on his dressing gown. "What do you mean _discuss the day_?"

"I've a proposition for you."

His smile was sweet, but she detected a note of mischief in his answer which she responded to with her own brand of cheek. "It's not every day I get propositioned by my husband."

"Don't be vulgar, Elsie." He playfully chided as he stepped through the doorway only to step backwards and throw her a playful smile. "Well, not until later, anyway."

* * *

He was returning the receiver to its place on the cradle as she made her way down the stairs.

"Barrow said they were going to send you home even if you did try to come in, so your argument about going in is moot."

She tucked her hands in her dressing gown pockets, a gentle grin on her face as she regarded her elated husband. "Very well. I appear to be all yours, Mr. Carson, and I believe you mentioned something about a proposition?"

"I want to meet the other witches."

"You want to…Eulalia and Mercy?"

He nodded his head vigorously, not hiding his puzzlement at her surprise. "Of course I do. They knew you when you were a little…witch."

"Girl. I was a little girl, Charles."

"Well, exactly. I never had the chance to meet your parents or any of your family for that matter. You've spent loads of time with mine. Don't you think it only fair?"

"They are… _unusual_ and quite _unlike_ any other elderly women you've ever met or will meet, for that matter."

Charles moved up a step so that their faces were even. "You are only making me more curious."

Placing her hands on Charles' shoulders, she warned, "They speak their minds and are rather unconventional."

"Do you love them?"

"Of course."

He leaned forward and gave her a lingering kiss before promising, "Then I will, too."

* * *

Elsie recently out of the bath and only wrapped in a flannel was standing at the bureau writing a note when a hastily showered Charles appeared in the doorway to their bedroom.

"Wait! Are you doing it?"

She finished the last curl of a capital _E_ before lifting her head to look at him. "Am I doing what?"

"A spell? A charm?"

"I'm writing a note, Charlie."

He glanced over her shoulder and read her feminine scratchings.

 _You were right. He understood. The guest room awaits you. Lunch will be ready at noon. -E_

"But how..." He received an answer as he observed her movements. Concentrating on watching her tear the paper into a series of small scraps which she then held in her fist, he took a step back as the bedroom window began to lift on its own.

Stepping up to the sill, Elsie fought a smile as she glanced over her shoulder at her wide-eyed husband.

 _Over the wind my words I bend_

 _Into my sisters' hands I send_

Opening her palm she blew gently against the bits of paper until they floated into a _V_ formation like that of birds seeking warmer climes.

"Very clever. And they will put the pieces together like a puzzle and be able to read it."

Elsie gave a small laugh as she nodded in the direction of the window that soon heeded her directive by closing. "Something like that." Rubbing her arms in reaction to the coolness the outside air had lent the room, she turned and looked at the pile of firewood in the hearth which quickly caught fire and was soon blazing.

He was pulling on his dressing gown as he noted, "All those freezing cold nights I climbed out our warm bed to stoke this fire and you could have done that all along?"

"You would have had a coronary if I had done that, Charlie, and, if I recall, it gave you a very good reason to snuggle up next to me when you got back into bed."

Charles moved swiftly, his hand catching the bottom of her flannel as she was making her way towards their wardrobe. "If our guests won't be here until noon, we've a bit of time to do some snuggling now, Mrs. Carson."

Barely holding the towel in place after husband's tug, she giggled, "Snuggle. Is that all you are offering, Mr. Carson?"

Moving to face her, his hands landed on her waist before moving to slide over her hips and onto her round bum. "That's definitely not the only thing on offer, sweetheart."

She was raising onto her tiptoes, her arms wrapping around his neck when the bedroom window flew open again and a series of paper scraps floated across the room in search of Elsie's hand. The weave of the pulp soon joined as it had when first created and a perfectly unblemished piece of Grantham Arms stationary landed on top of where her hand rested on Charles' shoulder.

Looking down he read:

 _We look forward to meeting your man. Knew he had it in him to understand or you wouldn't love him so much. Looking forward to lunch and appreciate the invite. Had a feel around the Abbey last night and have news. –M &E_

"They felt around the Abbey? What does that mean?" Charles stared down at the paper.

"Of course!" Elsie sent the note flying as she threw her hands in the air, clapping them together over her head. "Mercy can call up the memories of a place by summoning the name of someone who has been there. She and Eulalia must have gone to the Abbey in the night and she found a link between the name Lucy and something that happened there."

"Can you do that?"

She shook her head. "Not my gift."

"What is your gift?"

A brief, but strange look passed over her face before she managed a coquettish smile and lifted her eyebrows which resulted in Charles' dressing gown sliding from his arms and puddling around his feet. "I can have you out of your clothes before you even know it, for one."

"You powers have thus far amazed me, but now I truly envy what you can do." Charles distracted her with his low growl before stretching his long arm out and stripping her of her towel.

"You don't have my finesse, that's certain, but you manage alright." She placed her hands on his chest in preparation to lift to her tiptoes, but a knowing smile soon filled her face as she pulled her hands back and gently floated up the eight inches that normally separated their faces. "You don't have to bend and I don't have to stretch."

"You said you couldn't fly?"

"I'm not flying. I'm levitating as I told you I could."

He nodded and bit his curved bottom lip as he timidly reached up to touch her chin.

Elsie smiled at his timidity. "I am as secure here as if I were standing on my feet, sweetheart. You can touch me. I won't fall."

"Can I turn you around?" He slid his hands around her waist, amazed at how grounded she felt although there was nothing but air between the bottoms of her feet and the rag rug on which he stood.

Nodding, she allowed him to maneuver her around so that she faced the mirror on the dresser opposite them and began to blush as she watched his hands make their way up the porcelain skin of her rib cage before gently sweeping over her breasts only to pause as the tips of the fingers of his left hand swept over the red mark that still covered a four inch span over her heart.

"Will it ever go away do you think?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"I'm glad."

Elsie turned her head to the side, surprised at his remark.

"It shows how special you are; how good and pure your heart is to reject such an evil thing." He whispered in her ear, "Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are."

Allowing her body to lower a few inches, she hovered slightly to the right in order to see his face in the mirror. "I'd rather look at you."

He spun her around, his strong hand sliding under her left thigh so that his hardness pressed against her center. "My hands don't shake when I am holding you."

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him fully before leaning back and offering, "I can't cure it, Charlie, but I can ease it. If I could have made it stop, I would have…"

"I'm glad you didn't."

His confession surprised her. "But you might have been able to work longer."

"And died in harness and missed out on mornings like this with you? Bite your tongue, darling."

Elsie wrapped her leg tighter around his thigh, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I was so worried you'd resent me…"

He lifted her chin to look at him. "I should have told you. I should have trusted you with it. As you said my secret would have certainly been safe with you, as yours is with me. Now no more talk of what might have been and what you could have done." Sliding his hand around the curve of her thigh and lifting her bent leg higher, he watched her eyes close in ecstasy as he slid inside her warm, welcoming center. "Let's be and do, love."

* * *

"No magic?" Charles asked, looking up from the dining room table he was setting to watch Elsie flutter about the kitchen; lifting pot lids, turning spoons, and sneaking looks into the oven.

"It would be cheating, besides, magic tends to make everything taste too salty."

"Really? Interesing." He began to pull their best plates from the hutch. "And I am laying the table by hand when you could give a flick of your wrist and have it set in a matter of moments?"

"No magic could match your mastery at that task, Mr. Carson."

"Mmmmm…flattery will get you…"

She patted his back on her way to the door. "A set table."

"Where are you going?"

"To answer the door of course."

Charles looked at her in surprise. "I didn't hear a knock…Oh! You sensed them! What does it feel like? A tingle? Do you hear something?"

Elsie shook her head and gave a little laugh. "Neither. I saw them out the window."

* * *

Decked in coordinating crazy quilt jackets worn over long black gowns, the elderly crones were missing only black pointy hats and striped stockings to look like something off of a Halloween postcard.

Crossing to Charles' side after she ushered the women into the dining room, Elsie gave his elbow a little squeeze and faintly whispered, "Have courage," after hearing her husband swallow hard at the sight of the visitors.

Eulalia stepped forward, pulling a bottle of Old Pulteney scotch from the folds of her jacket. "I don't know what your taste in spirits runs to, but I'm a bit partial to the sea and I can taste it in every swallow of this."

"Thank you, Miss…" Charles' hand shook even more than normally as he reached towards what the woman proffered.

"Silly me. I didn't make proper introductions," Elsie came to the rescue, gripping Charles' hand as she reached out and took the bottle. "Eulalia Goodwin, Mercy Merriweather, please meet my husband, Charles Carson."

Smiling brightly, Eulalia stepped up and took Charles' hand in both of hers. "You've quite a past, Mr. Carson. You've still quite a bit of the proud lion you once were about you."

Elsie worried the little woman's pronouncement would strike Charles as poppycock, but was happily surprised to find a look of delight on his face. "Eulalia can sense what sort of animal a person was in a past life."

"Really? I was a lion?"

Eulalia nodded her head vigorously. "Oh, yes. A regal hunter, of that there is no doubt."

He smiled brightly before asking, "Do witches have past lives?"

Mercy spoke up, a polite, but less effusive smile on her face. "Of course. I was a bird, Mr. Carson. A flamingo."

Elsie stifled a chuckle as she regarded how very much the tall, thin woman resembled the awkward, lanky creature.

"And I was of the porcine family."

"She was a fat, pink pig." Mercy added, earning her a dirty look from her mate.

"Thank you, Mercy."

"And Elsie?" Charles asked as he reached over and took his wife's hand.

"Oh, she was a dove. It is rare for a witch to have been a dove in a previous life which explains…" A sudden mix of horror on Elsie's face followed by a pleading look in her eyes led Eulalia to clamp her mouth shut before stuttering out the rest of her sentence, "…which explains why… why she has such a peaceful, calming effect on people."

Elsie held her breath as she waited for Charles to respond.

"That makes perfect sense. She has always been quite the peacemaker." He gave his wife's hand a gentle pat before asking, "Shall we sit down for lunch?"

Their host's back turned, Eulalia and Mercy gave Elsie a questioning look which she met with only a shake of her head and lift of her hand to make clear the women understood Charles was to remain in the dark in regards to her secret which had almost been shared.

* * *

"Goodness that was wonderful, Elsie, and you made everything from scratch. Not a single bite was too salty." Mercy complimented as the two women made their way into the sitting room while Charles and Eulalia stayed behind, laughing and chatting in the the kitchen.

"Thank you. I've come a long way since we were first married and I find I enjoy it."

"Not far off from mixing potions and creating salves, in my opinion."

Elsie nodded, "Charles was a bit of a pill about it when we first married, but thanks to my friend Beryl, he quickly learned to appreciate the effort that goes into creating a meal."

Taking a deep breath, Mercy linked her arm with Elsie's as she whispered, "It's obvious your man doesn't know about your gift and you apparently want to keep it that way."

"I do. I hope you and Eulalia understand, but I would have to tell him what happened that night and…" Elsie was near tears as she and Mercy sank to the sofa.

"Shhh…we won't utter a word, lamb. Have no fear." She offered Elsie a handkerchief from a pocket near her sleeve's cuff. "It breaks my heart that you consider it a burden. It is a rare and precious…"

"I know, but Becky was rare and precious, as well, and if I hadn't been so careless and foolish…"

"It's been fifty years, Elsie. I wish you would forgive yourself and embrace your ability to…"

Forcing a smile onto her face, the younger witch shook her head. "Never again. I never will again and that's that."

Wishing to lighten the mood, Mercy nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. "Those two have certainly hit it off."

"She's charming him, isn't she?" Elsie managed a half-hearted chuckle as she wiped the corners of her eyes.

"Of course. You know what a flirt she can be. Loves to get a man all jolly and pink cheeked…"

"And leave his wife to deal with the after effects."

Mercy nodded, "Indeed. She's a right menace to a woman who doesn't wish to entertain her husband's affections."

"And I didn't need help in that department as it is…"

The older witch shook her head. "If he was mad about you before you began using magic, I can only imagine how your truest self is affecting him."

"We've made love more over the last three days than we had in the last two weeks." Elsie admitted as she felt a warm flush spread over her chest and face.

"I'm certain there is a charm in your grimoire to tend to an over-amorous husband if it gets to be too much. Your grandfather was forever trying to get into your grandmother's knickers…"

Elsie raised her hands in front of her face, "I don't want to know!"

"Don't want to know what?" Eulalia bounced into the room on Charles' heels, both of their faces sporting rosy cheeks and jolly smiles.

Mercy gave Elsie a wink before answering, "She doesn't want to know how many nips you and her man shared of that whiskey before deciding to join us."

* * *

While their lunch had been an enjoyable recounting of highlights from Elsie's childhood and reminiscences of her grandparents and parents, the tone of the afternoon shifted as Elsie segued the conversation from drinking to the witches' night at the Abbey. "You said you had news?"

Mercy nodded her head as she took a sip of the scalding drink in her hand. "I found a connection at one of the windows on the lower floor at the southeast end of the house."

"The drawing room." Charles offered.

"An older woman, a Mrs. Browning, acknowledged the two younger women I heard as being house maids."

"Browning was the housekeeper when his Lordship's father was a boy."

Elsie nodded as she took in the information from both Mercy and her husband. "So that would have been the 1840s or 1850s?"

Charles nodded as Eulalia added, "You could smell fresh cut wood and hear banging like some sort of construction was happening, didn't you say, Merce?"

"I did. Was there any construction on the house at that time that you know of?"

Excited, Charles slid to the edge of the chair on which he sat. "A great deal between 1845 and 1847. All of the cells that had been inhabited by monks were gutted and reconstructed to create the bedrooms and sitting rooms that fill the middle two floors. The family slept at the Dower House for much of that time because the downstairs rooms and the servants' rooms were completed first." He sat up straighter as he suddenly remembered something. "His Lordship's grandfather stayed at the Abbey, though. He had them completely finish out one bedroom before starting on the rest. He whipped his face around to look at Elsie. "It was the bedroom where Mr. Pamuk died…the closet…the room with the closet where Andy found Marigold."

"So he was the only male outside of the servants who was living in the house during this time?" Mercy asked.

Charles nodded.

"The two women were Lucy and her friend Jane. Lucy had a bastard baby daughter that she had hidden away in a closet in the house and alluded to the fact that the child's father was a member of the family."

"I never heard of any such story. How could someone keep a baby hidden in the house?" The thought made Elsie sick to her stomach as she turned to Charles and was about to ask if he had ever heard of any illegitimate children linked to the Crawley's when Marigold's lineage hit her squarely in the chest. Turning quickly away from her husband's inquisitive stare, she turned back to Mercy and asked, "What else did you hear?"

"Jane was pleading with Lucy to take the child and leave. She said the baby was ill and needed to see a doctor, but Lucy seemed dead set on getting what she claimed she and the child were owed by the family. Jane told her the family was powerful and would react in a most harsh way if Lucy was to confront them with the child. She also urged her to find a family to take the child, but Lucy said she would rather die. Those were her words. She said, "I'd die first, Jane! I'd die!"

Elsie closed her eyes, thoughts of Ethel coming to mind as she considered the young girl's plight.

"And that's when the housekeeper found them, right, Mercy?" Eulalia prodded.

"Yes. She told Lucy to pack her things and never so much as mention the family's name. I lost the thread at that point."

"I never heard of any maid having a child at the house, much less one fathered..." Charles whispered, the foundation on which so much of his life had been built suddenly feeling a bit shaky.

"We don't know anything for sure, love," Elsie quickly offered, knowing how affected he was by the magnitude of the information.

Mercy's voice was low as she said allowed the one thing they were all thinking, "It's clear that this Lucy died in the house and her spirit must still be present which would explain the moaning this Mr. Pamuk heard."

"The moaning suggests she's far from peace and if the demon is still loose in the house," Eulalia's eyes filled with fear as she considered the consequences, "we must make sure the children are kept as safe and as far from her as possible."

Mercy's voice shook as she looked at her mate. "You think the demon might feed the spirit from itself and leech the child's soul to create…"

"A poltergeist," the little woman whispered.

* * *

"Barrow said things were fine? Nothing's amiss? The children…"

Sliding down under the covers, Charles pulled his wife's body to his. "They are fine. Everyone's fine. The Pelham's arrived just after dinner and will stay out the rest of the week before travelling back to Brancaster with Miss Marigold over the weekend. I offered to spend the day in the wine cellar to free up Mr. Barrow so I will be nearby all day tomorrow. He was grateful to know you would be back to work because they are going to have the Dowager and Lord and Lady Merton for dinner tomorrow evening."

"I want to sneak Eulalia and Mercy into the house tomorrow. Do you think you could manage to get them into the wine cellar?"

Charles took a deep breath, but nodded. "You think Mercy might be able to glean more from inside?"

"Who knows? I certainly hope so. I just wish we knew who sent the demon." She sighed, resting her head against his chest.

"What do you know about poltergeists, love?" Charles was unable to disguise the fear in his voice.

"They have the power to torment and harm to the point that the place they inhabit is unlivable."

"One could drive the Crawley's out of Downton Abbey?"

"Undoubtedly." She watched her husband's face fill with anguish. "Try not to think about it." She smiled sweetly as she ran her hands up and down the plane of his chest. "We need a distraction."

Looking into his wife's beautiful blue eyes, Charles' fear seemed to instantly dissolve as his hand found the hem of her nightgown. "I have an idea…"

A series of murmurs from the next bedroom interrupted his seduction and a look of concern found its way onto his face. "Are you certain we aren't being bad hosts?"

Elsie leaned her head back to look up at him. "What?"

"I can still pull that cot out from the shed and you could sleep on the couch so one of them could take our bed. It seems inhospitable to ask them to share a room."

She bit her lip as she struggled to come up with an answer. "They don't mind. They've lived together for over eighty years."

"I still feel badly…"

Deciding that if her husband could accept that his wife was a witch he could handle any news she threw at him, she turned to look him in the eye. "They have not only shared a house for over eighty years, but a bed as well. They are a couple, Charlie. They love one another and live in very much the same capacity as you and I."

Charles stared at her. "You…you mean…" A small moan from Eulalia caused them both to turn and look in the direction of the guest room. "Are they…oh my God. Do they…Are they…what…how…Oh my God."

Another series of small moans from the plump witch as well as the sound of bed springs creaking inspired an aubergine hue to color Charles' face as the married couple turned to look at one another. Deciding she was wrong in regards to her husband's capacity to accept, Elsie opened her mouth to offer some sort of consolation when Mercy suddenly cried out, "Gin!"

* * *

Her long arms wrapped around Eulalia, Mercy wrapped one her love's long, springy curls around her finger as she whispered, "I hope our card game didn't disturb them. I'm surprised it's so quiet given the charm you were weaving on Charles..."

A series of subtle, rhythmic thuds suddenly distracted the women and climbing from the bed, Eulalia opened the door a crack to reveal the bedroom door opposite shuddering in time with the sounds.

"Elsie's tiny, but a man of his age holding her up?" Mercy pondered as she leaned her pointy chin on Eulalia's soft shoulder.

"Nah. He's not holding her up."

The two women turned and looked at each other, knowing smiles filling each of their faces as they murmured in unison, "Levitation."


	7. A Familiar Face

**Mostly set up for what is to come...**

 **My sincere thanks, once again, to CsotA who should add ledge-talker-offer to the list of the many wonderful things she is.**

* * *

"Bird…"

The sound of her three year-old sister's voice had woken her from the sound sleep she always managed on the nights she let the bird spread its wings outside her second floor bedroom. Groggy, she fought to focus her eyes on the figure of the child lit by the moonlight coming through the open window on the other side of the room.

"What are you doing out of bed, Beck?"

"Pretty bird. Coo,pretty bird."

Tangled in the bedclothes, she landed hard on the floor in a heap as she lunged towards the window sill where the tiny child had climbed.

"No, Becky, no! Get down! Becky! Don't! Becky!"

* * *

"Elsie, sweetheart…Sweetheart, wake up…Elsie…"

Her eyes flew open to find the lights in the room were on as Charles cradled her against his chest on the floor next to her side of the bed.

His free hand cupped her cheek as he gently rocked back and forth. "You were having a nightmare, love, and you fell out of bed. It's alright. Everything's alright. I've got you, sweetheart."

She fought to catch even breaths in an effort to slow down her rapidly beating heart as she allowed herself to digest the fact that she was safe in her husband's arms and not alone in her childhood bedroom. Assuring herself that all the windows in the room were securely closed, she turned to bury her face against him, the circumstances of her dream suddenly flooding back through her mind and inspiring a burst of tears and violent body shakes.

"Oh, Elsie…shhh…oh, my sweetheart, what is it? What, love?"

Her fingers gripped his pajama top as she shook her head against his body. "It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't let her out. I shouldn't have let her out. I should have closed it…"

"Who did you let out? What was opened, sweetheart?" A light rap on the bedroom door distracted a distraught Charles from his weeping wife. "Come in."

The heads of the two visiting witches appeared from around the end of the bed.

"We don't mean to pry, but we heard a thud and then Elsie calling out. Are you alright?" Eulalia bent down in an effort to see Elsie's face.

Drying her eyes on Charles' shirt, she turned her head to face the concerned women. "I'm so sorry I woke you," she sniffed. "I must have fallen from the bed. It was just a dream…"

"About Becky?" Mercy quietly asked. "You called out her name."

"I dreamed about the night it happened."

Charles watched the women exchange knowing and sympathetic looks with his wife which left him feeling all the more left out for his lack of knowledge of the incident.

"Oh, lamb, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Eulalia moved to her knees and crawled close enough to pat Elsie's blanket tangled leg.

"I will be," she assured the woman as she sniffled.

Mercy placed a bony hand on Eulalia's shoulder. "Come along, Eulie. Let's leave them be. Charles seems to have things quite in hand." She had an arm wrapped around her mate and they were on their way to the door when the tall, angular witch called out, "Tell him, Elsie. It's time, dove."

The use of the endearment she hadn't heard applied to her in the more than fifty years since the incident brought on another flood of tears as she turned back to the damp spot on her husband's chest.

"You can tell me anything, sweetheart. You have to know that by now."

Her breath hitching, she struggled to string words together as she leaned back to look up at him. "I know…I know I can. But I can't…I just can't...you won't look at me the same after…after you know."

"I love you and I told you nothing could change that. You have to trust that like you trust your lungs to continue breathing and your heart to beat. Loving you is that natural to me and nothing you could tell me could alter that."

She opened her mouth to speak, but found she couldn't find the words to begin. "Not tonight. I can't. I'm sorry. I love you, too. So, so much, Charlie."

He tried to disguise the hurt in his eyes with a smile, but she knew he felt betrayed by her withholding the story. "Let's get into bed, then, sweetheart. You'll tell me when you are ready."

Disentangling herself from the quilt, her hip smarted slightly, but she managed to get to her feet, offering her hand to him. "I just can't face it…"

"Shhh...It's alright, love. Let's get you back into bed."

"I will tell you."

"I know, sweetheart." He pulled the sheet up around her shoulders before spreading their quilt back over the bed. "It's alright." Turning off the lights, he climbed back in and pulled her still trembling body against his. "I've got you, Elsie. I won't let go until the morning." Burying his face into her neck, he was almost asleep when he thought he heard the distant sound of something reminiscent of a bird's coo.

* * *

The skies over Downton were dark and storms were fast approaching; a smattering of light rain serving as a precursor as Elsie and Charles made their way towards the Abbey. It had been decided that Eulalia and Mercy would take advantage of the darkness the weather promised to journey to the house midmorning where Charles would be waiting to let them in. Few words uttered, the trip was a quiet one as husband and wife each chose to refrain from mentioning the incident in the night.

Moving quickly under the protection of Charles' umbrella, the couple was almost to the main road that led to the house when they heard an automobile approaching. Dr. Clarkson slowed to a stop as he caught up with the two, lowering his window to offer a ride just as a bright bolt of lightning ripped through the sky followed by a loud thunderclap which seemingly heralded the deluge of rain now falling about them.

"You are a blessing, Dr. Clarkson!" Elsie called out as she quickly climbed into the back of the car, Charles close behind her.

The doctor turned and offered a warm smile. "Happy to help, but I am surprised to see both of you. I thought you were going to remain home the rest of the week, Mrs. Carson."

His use of her married name earned him a grin as she replied, "I am feeling quite well, thank you, Dr. Clarkson."

"But you are going to keep an eye on her, Mr. Carson?"

Charles reached out and gently patted his wife's hand as he answered. "Something like that. She promises to spend most of the day seated at her desk…"

The car was pulling around to the back drive as Elsie decided to change the subject. "What brings you to the house so early this morning? I hope no one is ill."

"Ah, well I am afraid Miss Marigold and Miss Sibby are under the weather. It sounds like the girls are suffering from a simple case of the chicken pox, but I won't be able to say for certain until I examine them."

"Oh dear. But not Master George?" Charles asked as the car came to a halt near the back door.

"He doesn't show any symptoms thus far, but I'm sure he will soon. He has been moved to another room while the girls are staying in the nursery. The family has all had it, as I suppose you both have?"

The couple each nodded as the doctor continued. "Barrow is going to make sure there aren't any members of staff who haven't. They would need to be quarantined away from the house until the incubation period has passed."

"I'll double check with the staff. Thank you for rescuing us." Elsie offered with a bright smile as Charles opened the door and climbed out, opening his umbrella to shield his wife from the downpour.

"Of course. Oh, and speaking of the staff. I was quite surprised to see a familiar face the other day, but I suppose you knew she was in the area. I don't mean to be unkind, but time has been less than friendly."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Clarkson, but I don't know of whom you speak?"

"Sarah O'Brien. You didn't know she was in the village?"

Elsie couldn't disguise her surprise as a niggling knot began to form in her stomach. "I didn't know she was in England, Dr. Clarkson."

* * *

Having wished Daisy and Mrs. Patmore a brief good morning as they accepted cups of tea, the Carson's made their way into the housekeeper's sitting room, promptly closing the door behind them.

"Did you hear him?"

Bending down to light the small stove near the window, Charles looked back over his shoulder at his wife's troubled face. "I didn't, or at least I don't know to what you are referring."

"He said he'd seen Sarah O'Brien in the village."

"Miss O'Brien? What in the…? Where would she get the nerve to show her face around here?"

Elsie lifted her tea to her lips, but found she couldn't take a drink, discarding the cup and saucer to the desk as she began to pace. "It couldn't…no…it's just a coincidence."

"What's going on here at the house and her sudden appearance are a coincidence?"

She gave her head a shake. "Yes. Oh, don't mind me. I'm spinning. I'm just still a little off kilter from last night."

Charles gave her a sweet smile as he rose to his feet. "I didn't want to press you this morning."

"I'm alright." She met him in the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around his middle as she leaned against his chest. "I'm sorry I woke you, sorry I worried you."

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hands up and down her back. "Don't be silly. I just want you to be happy and safe."

Tightening her embrace, she lifted her head to look at him. "I never feel happier or safer than when I am in your arms."

"This coming from the powerful woman who can protect an entire house by whispering only a few words…"

Elsie allowed herself to briefly levitate so their faces were even, planting a warm kiss on his mouth. "But it's my husband's love and acceptance that make me brave enough to put such powers to use."

* * *

Having shared bowls of porridge in the sitting room, Charles headed to the wine cellar and Elsie to the nursery as the rest of the staff assembled in the servant's hall for breakfast.

The housekeeper was almost to the second landing when Lady Sybil appeared at the top of the stairs. "Sybbie and Marigold are ill."

Elsie gave her a nod, briefly looking around to make sure there was no one within earshot before answering, "Mr. Carson and I met Dr. Clarkson on our way in. He thinks it is chicken pox."

"I am sure that is all it is. You cast a protection spell didn't you?"

"I did," she assured the young mother. "An alarm would have sounded if it had anything to do with the demon or any other evil force."

"Thank you." Sybil gratefully offered. "George is in Papa's dressing room and the girls are in the nursery. Everything seems quiet and neither William, nor Pamuk have seen anything, either."

Elsie offered the pretty spirit a warm smile. "I am most glad to hear it. I am going to check in on the nursery. Care to join me?"

* * *

Neither girl appeared sick outside of a small smattering of red bumps that dotted their tummies and arms. Sybbie was bouncing in her bed, reveling in the attention of Dr. Clarkson, Nanny, and her Granny as Marigold played with the tassels of her mother's dressing gown as she rested in Edith's arms.

"I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to see how these lovely ladies were getting on."

A host of thankful smiles met Elsie as Dr. Clarkson informed, "As was thought, the chicken pox has come to Downton Abbey."

Assuring the doctor that all the staff had reported having endured the illness as children, Elsie gave a glance around the room for the infamous rag doll, but was relieved to find it not in sight. Making a mental note to slip some of her tears into the chicken soup Mrs. Patmore was preparing for the girls' lunch, Elsie bid everyone good morning before making her way back down to the sitting room to do some actual work.

* * *

The wind was gusting mightily as the skies pitched forth buckets of rain, as well as offering quite a light show as the witches made their midmorning arrival to the house. Eulalia only had to stomp once on the cellar's delivery door before the former butler quickly ushered them inside.

"Are you alright?" You must be soaked to the skin!" Charles offered each of the women a flannel as he noted the puddles accumulating around their feet.

"Eh, not as if we'd melt," Eulalia countered back, shaking her mop of spirals like a dog would its fur.

"I told Elsie I would let her know when you've arrived. She's going to bring you tea in the guise of sharing a cuppa with me. We'll get you some lunch, as well, in a bit."

Mercy reached into her cloak and produced a large flask, followed by three ceramic mugs and a basket of muffins. "There's no need. We raided your kitchen and came prepared, Charles, although we appreciate the offer."

He let out a chuckle as he wondered what myriad of other things the ladies literally had up their sleeves. "I don't suppose you have any comfortable chairs on you?"

Mercy shook her head as she turned to Eulalia with a grin. "Not chairs, but…"

Reaching back towards her generous bottom, the stout witch produced fluffy pillows which perfectly fit the three hardback chairs Charles had managed to collect for their day spent in the cold, low-ceilinged room.

"You've just improved the outlook of the day exponentially." Charles happily fluffed each cushion before attaching them to the seats.

"Any news since you arrived this morning?" Mercy asked, taking the seat nearest the large man before filling the three mugs with piping hot coffee.

"The two little girls, Marigold and Sybbie, seem to have come down with the chicken pox, but other than that, things are fairly quiet. Oh…" It crossed his mind to mention the presence of her ladyship's former housemaid in the village, but changed his mind.

Eulalia blew on her cup and asked, " _Oh_ what?"

"Oh, I don't think it has any bearing on what is going on here in the house, but the local doctor mentioned seeing one of former staff members in the village."

"A friend?"

Shifting his gaze to the taller witch he gave his head a shake as he let out an amused laugh. "I don't know of anyone in the world who would refer to Sarah O'Brien as a _friend._ "

Eulalia sputtered on her coffee. "Did you say _O'Brien?_ "

Charles glanced back and forth between the two. "Yes. She was Lady Grantham's maid before Miss Baxter. She left her post in the night to go to work for his Lordship's cousin. No one has seen hide nor hair of her since. What is it? What?"

"I am afraid I failed to mention it before. Lucy. Her full name was Lucy O'Brien."

A sudden rap on the door caused the threesome to jump.

"Charles, it's only me." Elsie's muffled voice called from the opposite side of the door.

The door opened just enough for her to slip inside before her husband turned the lock back into place, the housekeeper was certain she had just missed something important. "What is it? Something's up."

Charles slid his hand against her lower back as he informed, "I mentioned the appearance of Miss O'Brien in the village."

"Yes?"

Mercy raised her eyebrows, her face more animated than Elsie had ever seen it. "Lucy's surname was O'Brien."

A ten minute debate soon commenced as the quartet discussed the commonness of the name, the unfortunate disposition of Sarah O'Brien, the generations that separated the house maid and lady's maid, as well as what sort of motive the woman might have to bring such darkness to the house.

"Could she be a witch?"

Elsie considered Charles' question. "I suppose so, but if she was, she didn't know it. Goodness knows the targets of her ire over the years would have suffered far more mightily if she had powers which she knew about."

"So she _could_ be a witch and not know it?"

Mercy, Eulalia, and Elsie exchanged looks.

"I suppose it is possible. If her grandmother's gifts weren't particularly remarkable or practiced, she could have grown up unaware of her powers." Eulalia conceded.

"You said she just up and left here in the night. Where did she go?"

"To India with his Lordship's cousin. She stayed there when they came back and we'd lost track of her until now." Charles answered in response to Mercy's question.

"Hmmm…it doesn't fit this sort of magic. The sort of demon you've described doesn't emanate from the religions of the East."

A knock on the cellar door caught them all by surprise. Mercy and Eulalia scrambling to hide behind two large crates at the far side of the room, Charles opened the door to find a flushed and excited Beryl Patmore waiting on the other side.

"You've a visitor, Mrs. Hughes, and you'll never guess who!"

"I don't suppose it is an ex-lady's maid?"

Mrs. Patmore's eyes grew large. "How could you possibly know that?"

"She's a witch, Mrs. Patmore. She sees all and knows all."

"Dr. Clarkson mentioned seeing her in the village when he picked us up this morning." Elsie bit her lip as she shot her husband a look as she passed him on her way towards the door which earned her a cheeky grin.

* * *

Beryl stopped short as she noticed the door to the sitting room was now shut. "It was open when I left her. Coo, she looks awful, by the way. Old and thin. Things must've been terrible over where she's been."

Elsie approached the door, but held her hand just over the knob as she heard the low voices of a man and woman snapping at one another. Turning briefly to look at her friend, she gestured with her head before leading the way to the grate through which she had once overheard Vera and John Bates arguing. Moving a small box out of the way, she pointed up and then moved her finger to her lips before aiming an ear at the vent.

"…don't need your nastiness back here, I can tell you that."

"Look at you all high and mighty. The Butler of Downton Abbey. I never thought I'd see the day…"

"Well now you have and you can be on your way back to bloody Africa if that's even where you've truly been."

"Oh, I was definitely in Africa, Mr. Barrow. I learned quite a bit there. Quite a bit about myself and what I am capable of."

"So why did you come back?"

"Oh, it's fairly simple. I've come back seeking vengeance for what was done to me and those before me."

"You're talking in riddles, and besides, it won't work this time. I'm not the man I used to be. I won't lower myself to your petty ways."

"It's not you I'm after, Thomas. The Crawley's are not the saints everyone makes them out to be…"

"It would cost me my place, but I will tell them. I will tell them about the bath and the bar of soap, Sarah O'Brien. God help me, but I won't let you blackmail me or anyone who lives under this roof ever again."

The women turned to one another, Beryl mouthing the word "Soap?" as Elsie struggled to come up with some connotation for the exchange.

"I've no need to blackmail anyone, Thomas Barrow. I've got much more power in my arsenal than some silly misdeeds from your past. Horrors unlike anything you've ever imagined are coming to this house and everyone connected to it will be affected. Mark my words."

"You're not well. Not well in your head or body. You should see Dr. Clarkson while you're here, Miss O'Brien."

"I'm not ill and I'm not waiting any longer. If we're handing out advice, do me a favor and offer this to Mrs. Hughes. Tell her Lucy knows. You tell her Lucy's coming for her."

Recognizing the words that had been hissed at her from a possessed Marigold's mouth, Elsie drew her hand over the red blemish that rested beneath her dress, her feet barely touching the ground as she made her way back towards the wine cellar, a bewildered Beryl Patmore left standing under the vent.

* * *

The lock had barely clicked into place when managed to catch her breath. "It's her. She's behind this. I'm not sure how, but she is." Elsie fixed her gaze on Mercy. "You said not the kind of demon that would have come from Eastern religions. What about Africa?"

Mercy jumped to her feet. "Oh dear God."

Elsie reached out and grabbed Charles' hand, the blood draining from her face, her voice a terrified whisper. "She said she's seeking vengeance against the Crawley's for what was done to her and those who came before her. She promised horrors were coming to this house and we'd all be affected."

Charles pulled Elsie to him, his face as pale as hers. "What else?"

"She repeated what the demon said. Lucy knows. That she's coming for me."


	8. Birds and Bones

Word of Sarah O'Brien's unexpected visit to the Abbey soon began to circulate which led to the family's summoning to the library both a very shaky Elsie and an equally disturbed Mr. Barrow.

"And neither of you knew she was in the vicinity?" Cora asked, sipping a cup of tea as George drove wooden cars around the feet of the various adults who stared expectantly at the butler and housekeeper.

"I did not, milady," Thomas quickly offered.

"I did."

All eyes landed on Elsie.

"Only as of this morning. Dr. Clarkson mentioned seeing her in the village, but I never dreamed she would have the gall to show her face here, milady."

"You met with her, Barrow. Did she state what business she had in Downton?" Ever one to get to the bottom of things, Lady Mary stared expectantly at a pale Thomas.

"What she said didn't make sense, milady."

"Well, what exactly did she say?"

"She said she was here to get vengeance for herself and those who came before her."

Cora pursed her lips and let out an annoyed sigh. "Vengeance? Vengeance for what? She was the one who just up and left with no notice."

"She seemed not right in the head, milady, and she also looked quite frail."

Robert's face was puzzled as he murmured, "Vengeance for herself and those who came before her?"

"I don't know about this _those who came before her_ ridiculousness, but I think I might have had a hand in this grudge."

The entire assembly, save young George, turned around to find Lady Edith making her way into the room, Bertie close behind.

"She came by my office several weeks ago looking for a reference. I wasn't harsh, but I assured her she would be getting no sort of positive reference from anyone in the Crawley family given her lack of loyalty. She spouted off some gibberish about the _sins of the father_ and waved her hands about. I had to have her forcibly removed from the building."

"Why didn't you mention this when it happened?" Robert asked with astonishment.

"It was right at our last deadline and just before our trip to Paris. I had a great many things on my mind besides the raving of some lunatic, of whom, quite frankly, I was never particularly fond."

Elsie's mind spun as she began to connect the series of events which had led to the predicament that of the present group only she was aware.

"If she _is_ ill, perhaps we should ask Dr. Clarkson to evaluate her condition," Henry Talbot suggested as he lifted George onto his lap.

"My husband and his bleeding heart." Mary chided. "She's a woman who has made bad choices and rather than accept responsibility for them, she is choosing to lash out at the very people she troubled in the first place. We have no responsibility to her so I say good riddance to bad rubbish."

"For once I agree with Mary, and besides, I am sure she is long gone by now."

Elsie took a deep breath as she looked over at Lady Edith, wishing to goodness that the young mother was right, while in her heart she was quite certain none of them had seen the last of Sarah O'Brien.

Not wishing to keep Mrs. Hughes from other matters of the house, Cora allowed her to take her leave, only asking to be kept informed if there was any more communication from her former maid.

* * *

"What's behind that door?"

Charles followed Eulalia's gaze until his eyes landed on a stack of crates on the inside wall of the wine cellar. "Oh. That. I had almost forgotten that was there. It's never been opened, at least as far as I know. The lock is rusted shut and the key long lost from back when the Abbey was occupied by the Friars."

The little witch cocked her head as she continued to stare at the wooden outline. "Haven't you ever wondered what is on the other side?"

Charles frowned, his bottom lip jutting out. "I never gave it much thought. I suppose it is some sort of closet."

"We could…"

Eulalia's suggestion was interrupted as Elsie slipped back inside the room.

"What did the family have to say?" Charles asked as he stood to offer his wife his chair.

"That's alright, love, thank you, but I can't stay long. I only wanted to tell you what Lady Edith said."

Recounting the strange outburst by O'Brien at the newspaper office, she was met with confused looks.

"All of this because they wouldn't give her a reference?"

Elsie bit her bottom lip as she considered Mercy's question. "I think that was just the straw that broke the camel's back. She's always had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, but whatever she learned in Africa, as well as this familial connection to Lucy seem to have caused that chip to expand to the size of a boulder."

"And the family has no clue?"

Elsie shook her head sadly at her husband, "They've no idea what might be in store."

* * *

The storms continued to blow through the Yorkshire countryside as afternoon turned to evening, but the interior of the house remained calm and peaceful under the watchful eyes of the three spirits and the Scottish witch who made a point of reinforcing all the protective charms she had put into place in the previous days.

Having been unable to summon much more from the wine cellar than the vision of an old monk drinking himself into unconsciousness, Mercy and Eulalia decided to return to the Carson's cottage for a nap before returning much later in the evening when most of the house would be in bed.

Elsie, not wanting to put Charles at unease by having him seated at the table over which he had so long resided, she managed to arrange for she and her husband to share a private dinner in her sitting room. Having just begun to tuck into Mrs. Patmore's roast beef and mash, each quickly put down their cutlery as a knock sounded at the door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb your dinner." Isobel Merton apologized. "I just wanted to see how you were faring, Mrs. Hughes."

"Very well, Lady Merton. Very well, indeed. You are so kind to ask. Please come in."

Shutting the door behind her, Isobel was quickly offered a seat by Charles, as well as a glass of wine.

"I shouldn't."

"Oh, please. It's from Mr. Carson's private stock, and, if you have a moment, I have a few things to tell you."

Accepting a glass, Isobel's questioning gaze drifted from the housekeeper's face to her husband and back.

"It's alright. Charles knows everything…"

She scanned the faces of the couple; Charles looking at Elsie with a slightly raised eyebrow over hurt eyes, while she, briefly flinched before quickly correcting herself.

"…everything you know as far as my abilities are concerned."

Glancing at the large man, Isobel was surprised to see a gentle smile had found its way onto his face. "I see. You seem to have taken it fairly well, Mr. Carson."

"It took me a while to digest, but once she explained and I saw the incredible things she is capable of, well…I have quite embraced the idea of being wedded to a witch."

Lady Merton smiled brightly. "How wonderful."

Elsie inhaled deeply, "I am afraid not _everything_ is wonderful. Quite a bit has happened since we last visited, milady, and much of it is still a mystery."

Knowing the elegant woman before her would soon be expected back upstairs, the housekeeper did her best to be brief, but thorough in her explanation of all that had transpired since she had left the village hospital.

"And you think O'Brien brought the demon to the house?" Isobel shook her head with dismay. "And all because Edith didn't give her a reference?"

"There has to be more to it than that. This Lucy shares her surname. She said _for myself and those who came before me_. Don't you think she's referring to this Lucy being her distant relative?"

Elsie's hypothesis struck fear in the woman's heart. "Oh dear, and your friends, they mentioned something about the demon being able to turn a spirit into a poltergeist? It would feed off the demon…"

"And an innocent. It's why I have used a protection charm on the children…"

The discussion was cut short as Andy knocked on the door before sticking his head inside. "Pardon me, Lady Merton, but her Ladyship says dinner is served whenever you are ready to rejoin them."

"Oh, thank you, Andrew." Waiting until the footman had closed the door, she promised, "I'm afraid I must go up. I hate to keep you from your dinner even longer, but would you mind walking with me, Mrs. Hughes?"

* * *

Elsie and Isobel walked side by side down the corridor, neither speaking until they were out of earshot of the bustling kitchen.

"Is there something you don't wish for Mr. Carson to know?"

Elsie gave a mirthless laugh. "Perhaps there is a bit of witch about you, Lady Merton. How on earth could you know that?"

The women climbed the stairs as Isobel explained, "I have nothing but a keen knack for observation. I picked up on a little tension when you told me he knew about your powers."

The housekeeper nodded as they paused at the green baize door. "There is an aspect to my _situation_ which I haven't shared with either you or Charles."

"Well, I am sure you have a very good reason, but your husband looked…well, rather sad."

Letting out a sigh, Elsie nodded.

"I don't mean to pester or push, but if he has readily accepted the other facets of who you truly are…"

Elsie managed a small, but appreciative grin. "My friends have encouraged me to tell him as well, and I know you are all right. I just have to figure out exactly how to tell him…"

Isobel had opened the door, her body half way through the opening when she looked over her shoulder with a sly smile, "I find a kiss or cuddle tends to soften any blow."

* * *

Charles had finished more than half his dinner by the time Elsie returned.

"I was going to chastise you for letting your dinner get cold if you had waited for me. I'm glad you didn't."

He grinned as he stood in response to her entrance. "I feel quite uncouth, but it did seem wasteful to let it just sit. Would you like me to have Mrs. Patmore heat yours in the oven?"

Locking the door behind her, she made her way quickly to the center of the room. "I don't have much of an appetite as it happens and there is something I need to tell…to share with you."

He stared as she turned her back to him, the buttons of her dark navy dress unfastening as though unseen fingers were working down her back.

"Elsie, darling, everyone is right outside…"

She gave an amused huff as she pulled down her sleeves before stepping from the dress and placing it over her desk chair. "I'm not seducing you, Charlie."

Her corset laces loosened on their own and the contraption was soon resting over her dress as she pulled her chemise over her head.

"Elsie…"

She held an arm across her chest as she turned to reach out to him with the other. "Come here, love. I promise my motives are far from untoward."

Charles grasped her hand, his eyes gratefully sliding over her porcelain skin. "That may not be your intention…"

Allowing her self to gaze into his eyes for a moment, she slowly brought his hand to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on his fingers before asking, "Would you please put your hands over my shoulder blades, love."

His large, warm palms resting gently against her, he was leaning forward to kiss her neck when a sudden pulsation beneath her skin caused him to jerk back. "Good God!"

She swallowed hard before look back at him. "Please, Charles. Put your hands back. Just hold them there. She won't hurt you. I won't let her out."

A look of horror tinged with curiosity filled his face. "Her? Elsie, please, what are you talking about?"

"Just put your hands back and I'll explain."

His hands found their way onto her shoulder blades, his breath held as he waited with tremendous anxiety for what was to come next.

"Have you ever heard of a witch's familiar?"

He thought for a moment. "Isn't that an animal associated with a witch. A black cat?"

Elsie smile went unseen, but it was present in her voice. "That is a common misperception like flying on brooms and wearing pointy hats. It's true that cats and witches do have a certain affinity for one another. Mercy and Eulalia always had about ten cats running around their house when I was a child, but a true familiar is very rare. They say only one out of every thousand witches is born with one and those who are had been that animal in a previous life."

"A dove."

She nodded her head. "Yes, a dove, but most are ravens or larks. The dove is the rarest."

"How rare?"

"As far as I know I am the only living witch with a dove familiar."

Charles forced himself to remain still as the delicate shape of two bird wings suddenly pushed against his hands, their outline visible beneath his wife's skin.

"It's inside you…"

"It's a part _of_ me. It is a part of my soul that I can set free at will. Its tears heal as mine do and, from what I remember Gran telling me, it has the ability to calm and comfort with its coo and proximity to someone hurting."

He continued to stare at his hands, surprised to find himself disappointed as the wings disappeared and he was once again touching smooth skin. "You can release it?" The concept baffled him. "It comes out from under your skin?"

"It does, but it isn't awful," she assured him. "From what I remember, it's like exhaling a long held breath. My skin tingles and she appears as though emerging from a pool of water."

Charles tried to wrap his head around the concept. "But what you said about the calming and the comforting…you don't know this from experience?"

"I only ever let her out at night when I was alone or with only Gran, never with other people, and I have never let her out…not since…"

"Since Becky's accident?"

Elsie nodded.

"Please, love, please tell me."

Looking at the pleading look in her husband's eyes, she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Forgoing magic, Elsie quickly dressed back into her chemise, corset and dress as Charles poured them fresh glasses of wine.

Sitting across from one another, he watched doubt begin to crawl upon her face. "Whatever it is, Elsie, it won't change anything. I'll love you no matter what. Nothing can change that."

Offering a grateful look, she began, "I was nine and had been studying magic with my Gran for four years when I first let the dove out. We were in her still room and I had just managed to successfully levitate for the first time and I was so excited I began whirling around in the air with my arms extended when I felt a strange tingle between my shoulder blades and the tickle of something soft against my neck and then suddenly this beautiful white bird was soaring along the ceiling, weaving in and out among my grandmother's hanging herbs. The entire coven was beyond thrilled. Eulalia had been insisting I had been a dove in my previous life, but everyone thought it was a legend because there hadn't been a dove familiar for centuries."

"How did _you_ feel about it?"

Elsie couldn't help but grin at the memory. "I just thought it was so delightful to have a pet whose stall I didn't have to shovel or remember to feed, or feel guilty about eating for Sunday dinner."

Her husband gave a light chuckle as he remembered he wasn't only married to a witch, but a farm girl, as well.

"I loved to let her out at night and lean against my window sill and watch her fly in the moonlight. I'd let her stay out all night and when I fell asleep, my dreams were her reality. I was the one flying. It was incredible…so incredible to feel so light and free."

He reached across the table and held her hand. "But you stopped letting her fly?"

Elsie pulled away from him, unable to stay seated she began to pace. "Becky was three and I had just turned ten. She had slept in a crib in my parent's room until only a few weeks before her third birthday when they moved her into the upstairs room next to mine. She was too short to reach the door knob so they just closed her door, but that night she figured out that if she stood on her box of wooden blocks, she was able to reach it."

Charles heart ached as he watched Elsie's eyes fill with tears.

"I hadn't shut my door all the way and she came into my room. I was having one of my flying dreams and in my flight I turned to see her little eyes watching me through the open bedroom window. I fought to wake up and called out to her. I can her her now. She said, 'Pretty bird. Coo, pretty bird…"

Elsie took a staggered breath, her words coming out in sobs. "She was climbing onto the window sill and I tried to get to her, but I tripped on my blankets. I summoned the bird to return, but as it got close to the window, she reached out to touch it and fell."

Rising to rush to her, Charles wrapped his arms around his weeping wife. "It was an accident, darling. It was just an accident…"

Elsie's hands covered her face, her head violently shaking against him. "I could have said _halt_ and kept her from hitting the ground...or if I hadn't summoned the dove back..."

Charles reached down and wiped her eyes with his handkerchief. "You were ten, darling, and it was a shock, and the fall didn't kill her."

Elsie let out a deep sigh. "Only because Gran intervened. She altered the fates by saving Becky's life."

"She…but Becky is…" He struggled to understand.

"She was able to heal her broken neck, but the damage to her brain…she couldn't undo that. She lived, but…it's not been much of a life…"

Charles held her tight against him, his grip the only thing keeping her from sinking into a heap on the floor. "Oh, my sweetheart…" He managed to sit in the green chair and pull her onto his lap; her arms around his neck as she cried over his shoulder. He hesitated, but found himself fearfully whispering, "What did the Goddess exact from your Gran, Elsie?"

She fought to catch her breath. "My grandfather. The shock of Becky's accident was too much for my Grandfather's heart. He died a few days later, and because of their being tethered, she died the following day."

It all made sense to him now. The sixty year old woman in his arms had once been a ten year old little girl who felt responsible for her sister's damned existence, as well as the deaths of her grandparents. He shook his head thinking it no wonder she had vowed never to let the dove fly again. "Bless your heart, Elsie, but, darling, don't you realize the facts of the matter all these years later? You had nothing to do with your sister figuring out how to open the door, just as you had no way of knowing the state of your Grandfather's heart, nor how Becky's body would react to your Gran's intervention. You were a sweet ten year old little girl with a pet bird, love. That's all. How can you continue to punish yourself when life has punished you so unfairly already?"

"I hear your words and they make sense, Charlie," she wept, "but I just see her slipping from the window ledge and then I see my father's face as he and I leaned over her twisted little body and I can't…I can't…"

"Shhh….shhhh…it's alright, my darling. It's alright." He pulled her tightly to him, his hand gently rubbing up and down the length of her spine for the next several minutes as she let out so many years of pent up hurt and grief.

* * *

They had been sitting in silence for nearly ten minutes when Elsie abruptly kissed his cheek before slipping off his lap. Refraining from saying a word, she gathered their dinner plates, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with a tray of coffee.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, staring at him for a moment before a gentle smile crossed her lips. "I needed to tell you and I'm glad I did."

"Thank you for trusting me with it."

"There is no one in the world I trust more, Charlie." She leaned over the tray and gave him a soft kiss on the lips .

He was relieved to see the smile remained on her face when she leaned back. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Mrs. Carson?"

"I was thinking about that first day the dove made itself known."

"Yes?"

She made herself known because of my joy."

"Yes?"

"Well, in all the years after, I have only felt her stir on her own because of you."

His heart swelled in his chest as he waited for her to continue.

"I felt it the day I came home from Dr. Clarkson telling me I didn't have Cancer and I heard you singing in your pantry, and then again the day we held hands in the waves on the shore at Brighton, and when you asked if might invest in a property together; the night you proposed, the night you first kissed me and then several times on our wedding day and night. The happiest times of my life."

"And you still think you shouldn't let her out?"

She stared at him, a sad smile on her lips. "Gran always warned that I had to keep her a secret, even from my parents. If word got out among other witches, I would be hounded because they would want the feathers for their charms and her blood for their potions…or my blood."

Charles cocked his head in surprise. "Your blood?"

"It's said that the blood of the familiar and its witch bring youth, health, and vitality to the living and can also awake a dead soul. Gran assured me it isn't true, but she said there were those who believed the old tales and who would come after me."

"A dead soul?"

"A soul who refuses to accept their death. They exist in the earthly realm, but their spirit is grounded at the spot where they died, almost like they are being held underwater. They can't communicate. They are just energy suspended for eternity unless…" The blood drained from her face as she whispered, "…someone stirs their bones."

The words the demon had related through Marigold suddenly struck her. _The bones are stirred. Lucy knows and she's coming for you. "_ Oh my God. Lucy is a dead soul somewhere in the house, but her bones have been stirred…She's not coming for me, Charles. Sarah O'Brien is. She knows about my familiar and she wants my blood to release Lucy."

The words were barely out of Elsie's mouth as a blinding flash of lightning streaked outside the window, immediately followed by a tremendous boom of thunder that shook the entire house before every light in the Abbey suddenly went dark. Distant squeals from Daisy and the house maids could be heard in the distance as the couple scrambled to find the torches Elsie had stashed about the room.

A torch in each of their hands, they were making their way into the corridor when all of the bells in the servant's hall began to ring.

"I suppose the lights are out throughout the house…"

Elsie grabbed Charles' wrist. "But why are _all_ the bells ringing? And at the same time?"

They ignored the shouts of the other servants around them, concentrating on the sounds of the house that weren't human.

"The grandfather clock is chiming…" Charles checked his pocket watch. "but it shouldn't be. It's eleven twenty-seven."

The sound of the gong banging inspired a shared look of panic as Elsie gasped, "It's the protection alarm. The children!"

Taking no heed of those they passed on their way, they were running up the back stairs as quick as their legs and torches would allow and had just rushed into the corridor nearest the nursery, when Elsie stopped short, barely managing to keep from running over a crying Sybbie.

"Miss Sybbie, are you alright?" Charles moved to his knees, gently pulling the little girl to him. "Are you hurt?"

Her little body shook as she cried, "I woke up and Marigold was standing at my bed. She gave me this."

Elsie fell down beside her husband, her palm moving beneath the little girl's hand to catch the small parcel.

"The scary lady said she wouldn't come back to get me if I gave Mrs. Hughes this."

Charles stole a look at Elsie as he asked the child. "What scary lady?"

"She was standing behind Marigold."

"You said she said she wouldn't come back. Where did the lady go, Sybbie?"

"Into the wardrobe. With Marigold."

Their eyes focused on the folded handkerchief Sybbie had given Elsie, Charles' torch revealed a monogrammed _SLO._

As she pulled back the edge, both struggled to identify the small, yellowed, jointed stick-like item which had been hidden inside.

Realization dawning, Charles fought to keep his nerves in check as he whispered, "Elsie, it's a finger."


	9. Beyond the Wall

Sybbie exchanged her arms being wrapped around Charles' neck for wrapping them around her father's after Tom, Edith, and Bertie came upon scene in the corridor.

"Where's Marigold? Where's Nanny?" Edith didn't wait for an answer as she and Bertie headed towards the nursery. Elsie quickly rose to her feet and set off after them, finding the young couple scrambling through the room, each of their torch lights shining over and under the children's beds.

"Marigold, darling, are you hiding? It's alright. You can come out now. We're here. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Quite certain Bertie had never been more wrong, Elsie ran the few steps that separated the nursery from Nanny's room. Throwing open the door, her stomach lurched as her torch's beam landed on the slumped, lifeless form of Nanny in her bed, a splash of something dark marking the wall above and behind the metal bars of her bed's headboard.

"Charles! Charles, come quick!"

Her shouts brought her husband barreling into the room so quickly he almost knocked her over.

"Oh, my God."

"She slit her throat, Charles. She took a life." She looked up in horror at her husband.

Lady Edith and Bertie suddenly appeared at the door, recoiling at the sight of the dead woman.

"Oh, dear God! The poor woman." Bertie whispered wrapping a weeping Edith in his arms. "Marigold's not…"

"She's not in here," Elsie assured him.

Letting out a thankful sigh, the little girl's step-father looked to Charles. "Will you get someone to attend to this? We've got to look for her."

"I will take care of it."

Watching the couple head in the direction of the far wing, Elsie grabbed Charles' hand. "I'm going to search the wardrobe. There has to be…I don't know…but there has to be something there."

Charles nodded. "I'll get Barrow to deal with this and then find you."

He was almost through the door when she reached out and grabbed his hand, "Be safe."

"And you." He leaned down, his hand cupping her cheek as he placed a firm kiss on her mouth.

* * *

The wardrobe was attached to the wall as was much of the cabinetry throughout the servants' quarters, as well as the boot and other utilitarian rooms. Elsie had never given it much thought before, but it suddenly dawned on her that they must have been built during the renovations in the mid-1840s.

Grabbing the children's hanging dresses, tops, and pants, she soon had the narrow structure empty and began running her light over the seams of the walls, floor, and ceiling. She almost missed it, but in the bottom left corner of the back wall was a key hole. Inhaling deeply, she leaned down and gave her finger a small twirl which resulted in a subtle click as what was obviously a door fell open.

Not wanting to alert O'Brien of her presence, she extinguished her torch, moving cautiously as she felt for something solid on which to stand in the abject darkness.

The coldness struck her first, followed by the stench of rotting vegetation. Reaching out with her free hand, she soon found a wooden railing which she grabbed in response to the creak her second step made upon the wood beneath her feet.

"Who's there?" Sarah O'Brien's voice called from somewhere above her.

Elsie's eyes fought to focus as a myriad of candles began to burn on the wall opposite of her. Panicking, she turned in an effort to duck back out of sight, but the wardrobe door slammed in her face.

In the candlelight, she soon discovered she was standing in a wooden structure about the size of a telephone booth. he only solid wall was the one behind her, the railing her hand had found earlier the only thing keeping her from stepping off into the void below. Her eyes immediately looked up in the direction from where O'Brien's voice had issued, but she saw no movement. She did, however, see directly above her head the base of what was obviously a similar structure to the one she occupied. Looking to her left, she spied a narrow ladder which would allow someone to climb between the ground and floors, as well as into the rafters.

Looking out towards the candles, she couldn't help but gasp at the sight before her. Eight feet from the railing was a solid wall of wood which was covered in a black, thorny vine unlike any living plant Elsie had seen. A myriad of books, small toys, picture frames, the lit candlesticks, and various other household items, as well as tchotchkes were suspended from the vine like bunches of grapes; each item tangled amid the dangerous looking thorns.

"It's a syphon."

Elsie glanced up, but still found no genesis of the former lady's maid's voice.

"When a dead soul is particularly despondent, it has the ability to attract items from the outside the world in an effort to sooth itself. All of the things you see in front of you had sentimental value to the people in this house."

"Where is Marigold?"

"She is safe. She's the real reason I paid call on Lady Edith in London. I wanted to know which of the children would be most susceptible to possession and, her being a bastard, I was quite sure she would be needy enough to fit the bill. I had no interest in a reference, but the fit I threw when she denied me allowed me to steal a photo from the child off Miss High and Mighty Magazine's desk. I fed it to the demon and voila! But don't you worry. She is quite safe and will stay that way until I am ready to put her to use. She has been quite useful, as a matter of fact. Compliant, to say the least, given how easy my demon found her to possess. Her little hand was just the right size to slip beneath the vines to stir Lucy's bones. I am sure it was a relief to my great aunt to finally be heard after almost a century. Lady Sybil's girl is an obedient one, as well. I assume you are here because she gave you Lucy's finger bone and told you of my taking Marigold into the wardrobe?"

"Miss O'Brien…"

"Call me Sarah. I'm not under your control anymore, Elsie."

"You've taken a life, Sarah. Don't you know what that means?"

"I had to make sure there would be no intervention. She was an old woman stuck taking care of other people's children. It can't have been much of a life from what I remember from my time here, and I do know what it means. It means I won't have to suffer much longer, while the rest of you will be made to pay for the suffering inflicted on my family."

"Don't do this, Sarah. If something was done to your family, I am sorry, but it was done generations ago. This family shouldn't be made to pay for something a distant relative did eighty years before." Her eyes continued to search for the woman's location above her and she thought she saw a bit of movement directly over her head, but was distracted by the swooping down of a large raven, its beady eyes glaring at her as it landed on the railing near her hand.

"You aren't the only one with a familiar, Elsie Hughes. My raven may not be as precious as your dove, but she is capable of drawing blood."

The bird suddenly lunged towards Elsie's face, almost making contact only to be repelled by an unseen barrier as she employed one of the defensive charms Mercy had supplied.

Shield and protect

Evil reject

"A defensive charm? Come, come, Elsie. Surely a witch as powerful as yourself has more to offer than that?"

A series of thuds sounded on the wall behind her just as the dead soul's wail began to fill the space.

"Elsie! Elsie! Are you there? Can you hear me?"

Lucy's screeching rang in her ears to the point that she almost couldn't think as she turned to the wall, slamming her fist repeatedly against the wood. "Get Mercy and Eulalia, Charles! Quickly!"

The sudden ceasing of his own pounding convinced her she had been heard, but her momentary relief was thwarted by harsh words from above.

"She's waited long enough! Give me your blood or I hurt the child."

Elsie struggled to think of something that would buy her more time. "I was four when I understood I was different and seven when my grandmother began my lessons, but you didn't know, did you? No one told you. You didn't know you were a witch?"

Lucy's wails diminished to whimpers over the several seconds that passed before O'Brien answered, her voice lighter than it had been previously. "My grandmother died before I was born and my mother died during childbirth with my sister when I was only two. My father and grandfather apparently knew nothing about it, so there was no one to tell me."

Elsie scanned the room, still looking for the woman and Marigold, as well as the raven which had flown off after repelling from the spell. "But you found out?"

"I did something on a whim several years ago which had consequences I had willed, but never dreamed would come to fruition, only I didn't know of the cost exacted by the Goddess. How could I? I didn't even know I had powers."

Elsie swallowed hard, thoughts of her grandmother's death, as well as her own price exacted coming to mind. "What did she exact?"

"A slow, painful price. I've a tumor in my head that has been slowly killing me." O'Brien was quiet for a moment before offering, "I'm named for her. Sarah Lucille O'Brien. She was my grandfather's favorite sister and she came to England to work in a big house, but after two years, her letters suddenly stopped and when my family contacted the Crawleys, they were told she had up and left in the night. My grandfather always insisted she wouldn't have done that, so I worked to earn a place here so I could try to find out what had happened to her, but I never found so much as a scrap of paper mentioning her existence. I had given up and then the business happened with her Ladyship and Thomas turned on me and I saw a chance to escape all the turmoil and unhappiness so I took it, but the damage had been done."

Elsie let out a gasp as she remembered something from the conversation she heard between Sarah and Thomas earlier that day. "You unknowingly bewitched the soap her Ladyship slipped on the day she lost her child."

"I thought she was replacing me. She had placed an ad in The Lady…"

"For the Dowager."

"I had a flash of anger and a dark thought…"

"You didn't know you could bring it to pass. I'm sorry, Sarah. Truly."

O'Brien gave a huff. "I find that hard to believe."

"I am. You are paying the price for using magic you didn't know you possessed. It is a terrible plight, but please don't do this. Don't hurt others because you are hurting. We can come to a compromise. I will see that you are well taken care of until you do pass on and you can leave this world peacefully…"

"The dove." Sarah's tone had bite as she spat the words down at Elsie. "I always thought you more of a dragon, but that was just a cover, wasn't it? If you were too kind or too comforting, your true nature would have become known and you would have been forced to admit who you truly are. You know, out of everyone I hate you most of all. You wasted it. You've known your whole life and you've done nothing but waste your magic!"

"Let me explain, Sarah, please. Where are you? Let me come to you."

"Stay where you are!"

Elsie flinched at the woman's bark, but managed to keep her voice even. "I don't think I've wasted it. I chose not to risk its consequences by using it in grand ways. Surely you understand this? I haven't wasted it, I have just been judicious in my use. I've healed…"

O'Brien interrupted her. "I know. It's how I discovered the truth of my powers."

"What?"

"I went to Africa on a trip with the Governor's wife and met a woman in the market. I was holding out my hand to receive change and she backed away from me, whispering a series of words in a language I didn't recognize. I was annoyed by her at first, but she suddenly grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the road to a small hut where I met a shaman. He, like his wife, sensed your magic in the spot on my hand I had burned with the hair irons many years ago. You gave me a salve to put on it and it healed within two days when it should have taken weeks."

"My tears," Elsie explained. "I knew they had healing properties, but my teacher, my grandmother, told me all witches' tears do."

"To a point, yes, but not the strength that yours do. Your tears form a protective barrier. Think about it. Have Mrs. Patmore or Daisy so much as nicked a finger lately?"

She tried, but couldn't remember either of the cooks mentioning a cut or burn in the last five years.

"They've used so much of your salve over their years that their hands are immune to injury. The man took a knife and tried to pierce the skin on my hand. It's impenetrable. Then he sprinkled some sort of powder in my palm and suddenly my skin began to glow. He ran his hands over my back and then searched the bits of my skin that were exposed and when he looked behind my ear, he spotted a crescent mark."

"The Goddess mark." Elsie whispered.

"It exposed me for using dark magic. He spat and then put his hands on either side of my face and looked deeply into my eyes and started to laugh. He said, 'No dove. Raven. Bad Raven.' I stayed until nightfall with him so he could explain and teach me at least a little about my powers and then I went back to the hotel, packed my things, took my savings and paid to have a hut built next to his where I learned about my magic and the shaman's for the next two years. His wife was a seer and when I gave her a lock of Lucy's hair, she was able to detect where her soul resided and I knew for certain the Crawley family had a hand in her death. They taught me how to summon a demon who could possess someone in order to find her and stir her bones, as well as how to turn her into a poltergeist to run the Crawleys out of Downton Abbey. Now all I need is your blood to release her."

"You don't have to be the bad raven, Sarah. Please let Marigold go. I will help you. I will help Lu-" Her words were interrupted by a slam below them as the door to the wine cellar flew open, followed by the shining lights of three torches.

"Elsie?!" Charles called out just before his torch landed on her face.

Mercy and Eulalia were close behind him, their gasps echoing in the space as they took in the vined wall in front of them.

Elsie glanced over at Mercy who pointed at the wall. "It's a syphon, Elsie. There's a dead soul here."

"She's well aware." Sarah's voice was angry as she called down at the women, "Don't move or I kill the child."

"I'll give you some of my blood, Sarah. Lucy can awaken and be allowed to leave this place for the next. Please, just don't harm Marigold."

The chamber was silent as the collective waited for Sarah's response.

"Not good enough."

Marigold's blood curdling scream filled the air as eyes and torches shot up to find the little girl suddenly swinging from a rafter by ten feet of rope tied around her middle, the wood groaning in response to the motion and her weight.

A familiar buzz whirling past her head, Elsie realized the demon no longer possessed the child, but was flying about the space.

Evil away shall be tossed

Souls here shall not be lost

Elsie called out the spell, directing her hand first in Marigold's direction and then at the three souls below her. "The demon is loose," she informed the other witches. "You've protection, but you've got to find Lucy's story, Mercy." Her gaze went up to the gaunt face of Sarah O'Brien who was looking down from the beam to which Marigold's rope was attached.

"They are witches?"

"Yes, and one can look into the past." Elsie's eyes moved to those of a terrified and sobbing Marigold. "It's alright, sweetheart. Everything's going to be alright."

The knife O'Brien had used to slit Nanny's throat appeared in her hand over the side of the plank. "Be quick, witch, or I cut. I am sure Lady Sybil's child could easily be used to feed Lucy, or even that little George…"

"Please, Mercy…" It was Charles' voice that pleaded with the older woman as all eyes fell on her tall form.

She began to pace about the floor, her hands held out as though she was divining water. Finding nothing in her upright position, she sunk to her knees and began crawling around and was almost completely out of sight beyond the edge of the vine's thick base when she let out a groan which was followed by a horrible moan from Lucy.

Returning to view, she carried a dusty carpet bag in her arms. "She was on her way to meet him."

"Meet who?" Sarah's voice called down from the rafters.

"Lord Grantham. He was going to give her money to leave, but she could only get to him by going their secret way – the way she used to go to his room when they would meet in the night." Mercy suddenly put the bag down and moved to the ladder. "This was added during the renovations." She climbed quickly up the structure, her hand resting on the base of the platform where Elsie now stood. "These were prayer chambers for the monks; a special vestibule which allowed them complete darkness and solitude for praying." She continued her explanation on her way back to the carpet bag. "He had the builders leave these three attached so that this side of the house had secret access to a crawl space over there." Mercy pointed in the direction of the far wall. "I think if you looked, you would find a tunnel in between the floors that leads to an interior wall much like this one and a vestibule outside the closet of the room Lord Grantham was occupying at the time. It is how Marigold ended up in there the night she went missing." Wrapping her arms around the bag, her face screwed up as she focused on the night Lucy had died. "Her room was directly above and she was climbing down the ladder to where Elsie is in order to reach the pathway, but she stopped to check on the baby…"

"The baby?" Sarah's voice rang throughout the space.

Eulalia spoke up. "Mercy found out when we were here the other night. Lucy had a baby by Lord Grantham whom she was hiding in a closet. The housekeeper found out and ordered her to leave."

"Oh, no." Mercy pulled the bag tighter to her, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes.

"Where was the baby?" Elsie called down as Lucy's cries suddenly intensified.

Rocking the bag in her arms, the witch tearfully admitted, "She's in here. She was carrying her in this bag, but the little thing was so sick. She wasn't breathing..."

The vines of the branches tightened around the objects as the wailing spirit attempted to sooth itself.

"She panicked at the discovery of her lifeless child and lost her hold on the ladder and fell. She died from the fall. She wasn't murdered. It was an accident. Just a horrible accident."

Sarah O'Brien let out a wail to match that of her long gone relative.

Quietly, but quickly, Elsie began to climb the ladder and was only a few steps from the rafters when O'Brien caught her movement out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't! Don't come any closer or I will cut the rope!"

Elsie watched as the blade's edge met the cord, her gaze going to the crazed one of Sarah O'Brien. "No more, Sarah. No more." Closing her eyes, Elsie leaned her head back, the cold air brushing over her skin as the back of her dress fell open. Letting out a sigh, she felt a tingle followed by the delicate brush of the birds feathers against her skin.

The dove swooped over towards Marigold, lightly cooing and brushing its wing against her hand, inspiring the little girl to stop crying before it continued down towards the floor.

"I will release Lucy, Sarah. The dove will pierce itself on one of the bush's thorns and set her free, but you have to banish your demon. Let Lucy go to a better place. Don't damn her to an existence terrorizing this house. Let her go. Let her go home."

Sarah looked over at Elsie, her countenance one of exhaustion, but also determination. "He ruined her. He got her pregnant and didn't have the decency to take care of her or the baby. I will feed her the demon and the child. They have to pay."

Elsie watched in horror as the demon and Sarah's raven suddenly met mid-flight only to go careening as one in the direction of the dove.

To save these lives our own we give

Let evil die and goodness live

A blinding light suddenly shot out from the joined hands of Mercy and Eulalia as the final word of their unison incantation left their lips.

The crash of glass and porcelain filled the air as the objects held by the vine crashed to the floor around Charles and the room was suddenly plunged into total darkness. Having managed to hold onto his torch during the shocking experience, he flipped its switch several times and struck it against his hand twice before its beam returned. Directing it up, he let out a grateful sigh as it landed on a wide eyed, but upright Elsie. "Are you alright?"

She called out, "I think so. Shine your light on Marigold."

The little girl was shaking, but still conscious as she glanced over at Elsie.

"I'm coming, sweetheart." She began to climb, but suddenly turned back towards Charles. "Please, find Eulalia and Mercy, darling."

The beam of light scanned the floor, finally landing on the two women who were curled up in an embrace beneath a large piece of lace that had fallen from the syphon. Charles looked up at Elsie with a sad smile. "They've got each other, darling, and we'll take care of them, but we've got to get Marigold down safely first." Holding his breath, he did his best to illuminate Elsie's trek up into the rafters, his heart beating wildly as she reached the plank from which Marigold was suspended.

Crawling out only about a foot, Elsie quickly retreated as the board groaned in response to her added weight.

"Is O'Brien dead?"

Elsie looked down and nodded her head. "Yes. She's not breathing, but I don't think I can reach her to pull her back without compromising the wood."

"Use your magic, darling."

"Dead weight is tricky. I'm scared to move her for fear it will break the board and the pull of gravity is too great for me to balance her with levitation. I can't hold something more than a few feet off the ground. It's why I can only levitate and not fly."

A rustle from near his feet drew Charles' attention from his wife, and he soon found himself looking at a bowler hat resting on two fluttering white wings. "Hello, lovely." He gently lifted the hat with his freehand so that the dove was free of its weight. The bird lightly landing on his shoulder and offering a soft coo, he felt an immediate lessening of tension in his shoulders and his worries seemed to fade. Looking up at Elsie, he smiled. "I've an idea."

* * *

Moving back to the ladder, Elsie positioned herself on the rung that put her even with where Marigold was suspended. "Do you remember the game we played with Mr. Carson the other day when we all put on our magic hats?"

The little girl nodded, her hands wrapped around the rope looped about her middle.

"Well, the dove is going to bring you a magic hat so you can be a dove, too. I am going to help you fly, but you have to believe the magic and do exactly what I say, alright, sweetheart?"

Marigold sniffled, but managed to whisper, "I'll be a dove, Mrs. Hughes."

"Good girl, Miss Marigold. Here we go." Elsie glanced down and gave Charles a nod which resulted in his tossing the hat laden dove in the direction of the rafters. It was a struggle, but the bird managed to fly high enough to drop the cumbersome hat on the child's head.

"Be brave and hold out your wings, my little dove," Elsie called out to the girl before focusing her gaze on the rope which began to sway back and forth.

The sound of the wood creaking and the motion startled the child who drew her arms in as she let out an anguished cry.

"Alright, it's alright, little dove…" Elsie soothed the little girl as the bird made its way back to her. "Listen to the dove coo." She looked down at the worried face of her husband. "I need you to climb up here, darling. I'm going to crawl back up out of the way. Your arms are longer so you can more easily reach her."

"But what if I lose my grip?" His voice was filled with fear as he lifted his trembling hands.

"You won't. I know you can do it. I believe in you. Please, Charlie."

It was an arduous journey, but lit by Elsie's torch from above, Charles managed to climb to where his wife had just been perched.

"Okay, sweetheart. Mr. Carson's arms are much longer and stronger than mine. You've got to believe you are a dove and you will be. Believe in the magic." Tears formed in Elsie's eyes as she watched the little girl shakily hold out her arms again. Smiling she uttered the words her grandmother had said the day her familiar had made itself known. "You're glorious, my little dove. You're doing it. You're a beautiful, beautiful dove."

Charles wrapped his far arm around the ladder and spread his feet so that they pushed against either side of the structure in an effort to give him the most support possible as he leaned out, stretching his long arm towards the little girl.

Elsie's voice was calm as she directed her gaze down at her husband. "I'm going to try for one big swing and will loosen the knot at the same time. In theory, if the board breaks, the rope should slip off of her."

"In theory?" Charles asked, his face filled with worry.

"I'll make sure it releases her. I promise. You can do it, darling. You can. I know it. Here we go."

Marigold's body was suddenly flying toward his, her eyes wide beneath the brim of the bowler. He had just grasped her arm when the board broke with a loud crack, the rope momentarily pulling her from his grip. Elsie had managed to yell "Halt" quickly enough that Charles was able to grasp the little girl's hand as the rope slipped from around her, plummeting to the ground with the broken board and the body of Sarah O'Brien.

"I've got you, Marigold, I've got you." Pulling the child up so she could wrap her legs around his waist and grab the lapel of his jacket with her free hand, Charles got his arm firmly around her before descending to the landing of the vestibule outside the nursery wardrobe.

Waiting for Elsie to join them, he welcomed the presence of the soft white dove which had found its way to his shoulder, alternately brushing its soft head against his cheek and Marigold's.

Reaching her husband and the calm child, Elsie wrapped her arms around them both as she allowed the dove to sail through the air for a few moments before silently commanding it to come back to rest between her shoulder blades. "Are you both alright?"

"I was magic, Mrs. Hughes. I flew to Mr. Carson."

"You were magic, Miss Marigold. I was so proud." She gave the little girl's head a kiss before looking at her husband. "And so were you, Mr. Carson, and I am so very, very proud."

"You saved her. You made her believe and you saved her from falling, Elsie. You saved her from falling."

A sob escaped her throat as she pressed her face into his chest as he brushed his hand over the shape of the dove's pulsating wings beneath her skin.

* * *

The trio made their way to the ground floor, carefully stepping through the debris. Encouraging Charles to wait for her by the door to the wine cellar, Elsie moved to the peaceful bodies of her dear friends, leaning down and stroking both the women's cheeks, whispering, "I love you and I will be eternally grateful to you both. Thank you for saving us," before gently pulling the lace over their faces.

Turning back to the vine, she unpinned a small ivory cameo from her dress and gave her finger a prick before bending down and forcing a few drops of blood to fall on one of the curling branches at her feet.

The transparent outline of a young woman in a coat and long skirt suddenly drifted up from the plant's base. "You set me free?"

"I always intended to, Lucy." Elsie offered with a kind smile. "You don't have to stay. You can go on now."

The young woman began to weep as she looked down at the carpetbag situated not far from Elsie's feet. "But my baby…"

"She'll be waiting for you. Babies don't have the capacity to choose whether to stay or go. They go to the light because they recognize it as being the place from which they came."

"I can see her?"

The witch nodded. "Can you see the light, Lucy?" She watched the young woman looking over her shoulder into the distance.

"I can."

"Go to it, my dear. Go be with your child and those who love you. They've been waiting." Closing her eyes she waited a few moments before she felt a shift in the room.

"Elsie?" Charles held a now sleeping Marigold on his shoulder as he moved closer to his wife.

"I set her free and she's gone to the next place." She looked around the room. "Mercy and Eulalia will stay in their bodies until we get them moved back to Scotland."

"And O'Brien?"

She inhaled deeply as she regarded his question. "Her eternal dwelling place is in the hands of the Goddess. She will decide if Miss O'Brien is destined for heaven or hell."

"And all of this?" Charles looked around at the piles of objects littering the floor.

"The spirit collected and pulled these things from the house because they had sentimental value to their owners. She fed off that. She comforted herself with the love attached to them." Looking around the room, her eyes landed on a familiar bit of silver about a foot away. Retrieving the item from beneath a small stuffed bear, she looked up at Charles. "I thought you'd put it away because of how you felt about me, but Lucy took your photo of Alice."

Charles pointed his torch at the picture frame. "I took it off my desk and put it on my bedside table after I changed out the photo."

Elsie inhaled sharply as she took in the sight of her own face beneath the cracked glass. "Oh, Charlie…"

"It's what I went to look for the night we got back from our honeymoon. I wanted to make sure it was packed, but it wasn't there and then later when I couldn't find it, I just assumed it was lost between the Abbey and the cottage." He flipped off the torch, allowing her newly blooming glaeme to serve as the sole illumination in the room. "She didn't take it until it held the likeness of my one true love.

Elsie cupped his cheek, levitating so that their faces were level before she leaned over and kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, my sweet witch."

Her feet back on the ground, she ran a tender hand over Marigold's back. "Now, let's reunite another mother with her child."

* * *

 **This story has been EXTREMELY challenging to write, but all in all, I am glad I did. I would be remiss in not thanking CsotA for all of her encouragement and kindness over the last two weeks. Seriously would have given up long ago if not for her and all of the amazingly kind and interesting reviews. It was intimidating to write this knowing such very smart people were reading it.**

 **There will be a tenth chapter that wraps it all up, but it felt cruel to leave you all hanging after the finger bone in the last chapter.**

 **XO Jen**


	10. Love and Magic

Making their way into the wine cellar, it soon occurred to both Elsie and Charles that they would need to concoct a plausible explanation for how and where they'd found Marigold.

Three wine bottles sat flush against the base of the door leading back to the house, signifying that the room had not been searched in the time since Charles and the older witches had ventured beyond the locked door.

"Eulalia thought to set those up so we'd know if someone had been in here or not, and it appears no one has, so it's safe to say this is the spot where we found O'Brien hiding with her…"

Elsie nodded, interrupting with, "And she did have her just on the other side of the wall."

"I'm beyond the need to justify, my love. Let's just come up with a plausible story."

She smiled, admiring his pragmatism. "Very good. We'll stick with the motive that she was retaliating for the refusal of the reference and obviously was quite mad." Elsie glanced around the immaculate room. "Now, I know it is going to kill your soul for me to say it, but if we scuffled with her, there would be some broken bottles and overturned crates at least, Charlie."

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply before nodding in agreement. "Just let me…"

She shook her head. "Step outside the door. We don't want to wake Miss Marigold yet, and besides, I don't think you have it in you to do what needs to be done."

Charles opened his mouth to object, but sighed as he realized she was quite right. "Just nothing from the back wall. Try to break mostly whites. They will be easier to clean up."

Elsie patted his arm as he slipped just outside the door, his hand gently covering the child's ears.

Deciding one large crash would be better than several, she made her choices quickly, but conscientiously, gathering fifteen bottles that all had fairly recent vintages, twelve white and three red, and placed them strategically around the room before closing her eyes and whispering:

 _Spirits of the vine within these vessels bound_

 _Lift from the earth, then crash to the ground_

Raising her hands, she watched all fifteen bottles float two feet off ground, hover for a few seconds and then smash against the stone paved floor.

She bit her lip, ashamed at how satisfying she found the experience, all the while knowing the agony her husband was in having undoubtedly heard the crash from the other side of the door. Having added a few empty crates to the mess, she gently pulled open the door before slipping to the other side and whispering, "It's best you don't look. It would break your heart."

"I'm choosing not to think about it."

"So we found her hiding Marigold in there, managed to get the child away from her…"

He quickly added, "And she took off towards the back of the house and turned right to go out the back door and we haven't seen her since."

She nodded. "I sealed off all the entrances to the space but the cellar door. It's the only way in. We'll come back for the bodies in the night and then I'll seal it permanently."

"What exactly do we say happened?"

"She would have had to have jimmied the lock to get inside." She turned and directed her finger at the lock, a subtle motion completely destroying the mechanism inside. "We found her hiding with Marigold. Her plan, we assume, was to escape from the house through the cellar doors in the dead of night…"

"But she panicked when we threw open the door and she let go of Marigold in an effort to escape…"

"And then threw and knocked over the bottles in your direction to keep you from chasing her, which is why you have wine on your pants."

"I don't have…"

Charles didn't finish his sentence as he watched Elsie disappear back inside the cellar, only to reappear with a bottle in her hands. Leaving the door open behind her, she stepped to the side. "Don't look, but step inside."

"You wouldn't…"

"It has to be believable, darling. Now hurry, please."

His face drawn up in agony, he gently shook his head as Elsie splashed the contents over his shoes and up the legs of his pants before dousing her own skirt with the remnants at the bottom of the bottle. "Well, at least you are using that disgusting moscato."

"More candy than wine, as my husband likes to say." She commented with a grin.

Scowling as he lifted his feet, he muttered, "I know it is necessary, but I feel guilty about all the lies we are about to tell."

Patting his arm, Elsie gave him gentle smile. "I know, but if we told them what really happened, they'd probably have us locked up in an asylum, darling."

"True." He was beginning to make his way up the stairs when he heard her suddenly whisper.

"Wait."

He held still as his wife gently pulled up the back of the child's nightgown. "I was afraid of that. She's going to be bruised from the rope."

"Can you heal it with magic?"

Her eyes lit up. "Wait here!"

Charles kept a lookout near the top of the steps as he anxiously waited the few minutes it took her to manage her task, breathing a sigh of relief as she suddenly slipped back from the wine cellar, a small jar in her hand.

"Where did you go?"

"The greenhouse." She breathlessly supplied. "I gave this jar of salve to the gardener after his fall from the ladder last month, but when I was in there the other day, I noticed he hadn't used it all."

He grimaced. "But won't it still take a few days to heal."

Elsie took a deep breath before answering, "Not if I make it a bit more concentrated." She turned away from him, whispering the charm that allowed her glaeme to shine at its fullest wattage.

Charles flinched as he heard her gasp, his own soon following as he leaned around to find a glowing gold liquid dripping from a gash she had made in her hand.

"Elsie…" he whispered.

"It's the only way, Charlie. She'll heal immediately with it."

Twirling her finger above the lid of the jar, the contents were soon evenly distributed and she quickly rubbed the concoction over the angry red mark that spanned the circumference of the child's torso, as well as her own injured hand.

Charles watched in amazement as not only the rope contusions, but the small chicken pox spots in the same area disappeared from view; Elsie's own gash having closed as soon as the salve touched it. "Will there be any after affects?"

She shook her head. "She should be safe from anything ever hurting her in the area where the salve was applied, but other than that, there shouldn't be any lingering signs that I used magic."

* * *

Having paused to wake Marigold before passing through the green baize door, the couple's entry into the main part of the house was met with a return of the power. Hearing the voices of the family sounding from the library, Elsie was the first into the room, her face bearing a warm smile as she caught Isobel Merton's eye.

"I believe Mrs. Hughes might have some news."

"She's safe and sound." She announced, stepping back and nodding to the doorway through which her husband appeared with a drowsy, but smiling Marigold.

Weeping, but smiling, Lady Edith pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, her words of thanks to the couple barely intelligible through her sobs.

A brief explanation from the Carsons soon had the newly arrived Sergeant Willis sending his two junior officers off in the direction of the back of the property to where the Carsons had reported the deranged Sarah O'Brien had recently escaped.

Elsie and Charles tried to politely eschew the tremendous gratitude offered them, insisting they had only done what anyone else would have in their situation, but the entire Crawley family, as well as the Mertons, did all but lift them aloft their shoulders in appreciation.

The sergeant served a welcome reprieve from the attention as he asked to be taken to the wine cellar where, after having been given a brief, but satisfying account of the scuffle, he thanked the Carsons for their time.

* * *

Left alone, they began to survey the damage Elsie had wrought as the lights in the cellar revealed several large, plum colored puddles which had collected in the crevices and dips in the large stone floor, as well as a great deal of shattered glass and loose labels. Biting her lip, Elsie was surprised to look up and see Charles wearing a bright smile.

"You're smiling? Why on earth are you smiling?"

"All those nights."

She looked at him curiously. "All what nights?"

"All those nights I droned on and on at you about Margaux, Chablis, Syrah, Semillon…you were listening."

She continued to stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned down and picked up a soggy label from the ground. "You broke exactly what I would have been willing to sacrifice; all the wines you knew I cared about least."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Of course I did and of course I listened to you. I've was in love with you, Charlie. I would have listened to you drone on about cricket or the monarchy or fall of the Roman Empire. I just enjoyed being with you. I still do."

Pulling her into an embrace, his lips brushing over her ear as he whispered, "My sweet girl."

* * *

Having insisted they would see to the clean up of the cellar in exchange for Elsie staying home the following day, the couple had the floor cleared and mopped in the time it took the house to settle into slumber.

Slipping back into the space behind the old door, Elsie grabbed Charles' arm as her torch landed on the spot in which Sarah O'Brien's body had fallen, which was now covered in nothing but dark black ashes. "Oh my goodness."

Charles cocked his head before making his way to the ladder. Climbing roughly eight feet off the ground, he shone his torch on the floor. "Sweetheart, come here. You have to see this."

Trading places with her husband, her suspicions were confirmed. Running her light around the curves and points, she highlighted the shape the ashes took. "The Goddess' mark. She made her decision." She closed her eyes as she whispered the dark warning her grandmother had once shared.

 _If a witch's deeds are deemed evil by the Goddess, her soul is doomed to hell's fire, her flesh consumed by white hot flame and an eternity of damnation her punishment._

"Dear God." Charles uttered in response.

She climbed down the ladder, her face downcast as she commented, "She took two lives that we know of and hurt so many others."

He was surprised to look over and find tears falling down his wife's cheeks. "Are you alright, love?"

"It didn't have to be this way. If she'd had the love and guidance I had…"

Charles pulled her to him. "Shhh…don't cry, my sweetheart."

"She was right."

"What?"

Elsie's lip trembled as she leaned back to look up at him. "I wasted it. I was given such a rare gift and I've done nothing but waste it."

"How can you say that? You may not have woven powerful spells on a regular basis, but you have healed and comforted and loved so many; changed so many lives with your gift. What was it you said the other night? 'Powers are a gift to be used for good. Heal the sick and comfort the hurting. Protect the innocent among us. Always let your humanity determine your use of magic.' All your maids, all the homesick or heartsick hall boys, Thomas, Ethel Parks, Mr. Branson, Anna, even Charlie Grigg…and goodness knows me. You've performed magic every waking minute of your life, Elsie, through your goodness and your kindness and your compassion." He placed his hands on either side of her face. "Wasted? Oh, no my girl, you've done nothing _but_ magic your whole life."

She buried her face into his chest for several moments before finally managing to lift her head, offering him a teary, but grateful and sweet smile. "Thank you."

"I need no thanks for speaking the truth."

Levitating briefly she kissed his cheek, "Thank you all the same."

* * *

She knew it would take every ounce of the remaining strength she had, but she was quite certain she could manage to levitate and pull Eulalia and Mercy's bodies the distance between where they now rested and the cottage.

Charles waiting in the cellar doorway, she had just focused her gaze on the women's forms when she heard Gran's voice. "I am so proud of you, my sweet one, my dove. You've been so brave and strong. Now it is time for you to rest. You've no need to shift their earthly trappings. Place your hand over theirs, whisper the pledge of the coven and you will be able to carry them in your heart. The Goddess will take care of the rest."

Lowering to her knees, Elsie leaned over the women, placing her hand atop theirs before closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sky.

 _Care and comfort, guide and support, protect and honor, but above all love. In the name of the Goddess I am one with my sisters and my sisters are one with me._

A warm bloom ushered through her chest as beams of white light emanated from her body.

His attention drawn to the bright light glowing from the doorway, Charles' breath was taken away as he watched his wife's body illuminate the entire space. A sound like that of a sudden gust of wind issued down from the direction of the ceiling and he had to grab onto the frame of the door, his eyes drawn heavenward to a swirling mass of what looked like clouds forming overhead, horizontal flashes of bright green, blue and white lightning shooting through it, while gales of wind that seemed to be careening into the space from all directions. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but a sudden force pushed him back into the wine cellar and the door slammed shut.

Thrown back off his feet, he was stunned for a few moments, but managed to gather his wits and scrambled back in the direction of the door as the roaring suddenly came to a complete halt. He had just risen to his full height when it slowly fell open. There, standing in the middle of the completely barren space, was his wife, her hair wild and loose from the event, but a warm, peaceful look filled her face.

"Elsie, are you alright?"

"I am."

"Where are Eulalia and Mercy?"

She smiled and looked down at where her heart rested in her chest. "They're with me. We'll need to take them home to Scotland, but for now, they are safe and in good company."

He stepped into the space, his gaze sweeping over the floor and wall which only moments before had been covered in thick black vines and the sentimental trappings of so many who had occupied the house. Now the wooden wall was simply that; a wooden wall, and the floors bore traces of not even a single leaf from the vine, nor a sliver of glass or porcelain.

"It's gone. It's all gone."

Elsie slowly made her way to him, her hands held behind her back. "Not everything."

Charles watched as she moved her arms towards him, his heart swelling at the small collection of objects in her hands.

"I believe these belong to you."

In one of her hands held a small red paper heart trimmed with faded lace bearing a child's scrawl which read: _To: Carson, my best friend Love: Mary Crawley_ , as well as a small, well-worn children's Bible which was marked with the inscription: _To my dear Charlie on his fifth birthday. May these lessons guide you through a happy and prosperous life- Goodness is rewarded. Kindness is more important than pride. Love is everything. All of mine, Mother._

He could only nod, his eyes filling with tears as he gratefully accepted what she offered. Gathering himself, he cleared his throat and looked up at her with a smile, but his attention soon turned to the item in Elsie's other hand. "What have you there, Mrs. Carson?"

"The wishes and dreams of a young head house maid."

"Do tell."

She opened the small leather tome, flipping a few pages until her eyes spied a particular passage. Smiling, she read:

 _He has the air of a proud lion, but I think there is a bit of a lamb about this Mr. Carson. I find it hard to concentrate when he speaks. His voice is like being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket, unless he is barking and then it seems more like that of some angry God. There is kindness in his eyes, however, and I think it must also be present in his heart. He seems to have a particular soft spot for the beautiful, but spoiled eldest daughter, Mary, and she obviously cares for him in return, for which I am thankful because I think she could hurt his feelings quite easily._

She glanced up just in time to see him look down towards the red valentine in his hand, but looked back down at the diary before he caught her gaze as she continued:

 _I found myself staring at him several times throughout today's luncheon. He caught me once and lifted those wonderful eyebrows, but I just looked away._

He moved closer to her, reaching out and gently rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers.

 _Silly. I don't know why I carry on so. I am sure to him I am nothing more than "that Scottish maid." Gran would tell me to charm him, but I would never. It wouldn't be right. If he were to love me, I would want him to do so because of who I am, not because I tricked or cajoled him into it. So I admire from afar._

Her voice halted as his fingers released her hair and his warm palm moved to cup her cheek.

 _Perhaps one day we will be friends. My friend, Charles Carson. Yes. I would like that very much._

She let her eyes dance over the final line of the page before looking up at him, her voice a whisper as she recited:

 _My husband, Charles Carson. I would like that even more._

A tear escaping the corner of her eye, she looked down once more at the book. "I was mortified when it disappeared. I thought for certain someone had snooped through my things and taken it, but no one ever mentioned it and I had quite forgotten about it. Now nearly thirty years later..."

Charles swept his thumb gently over her soft lower lip. "From the moment you came to work here I thought you beautiful, and special, and lovely, and I made a point of trying to glimpse your smile every single day."

"And now you _make_ me smile every day." She turned her face into his hand, her mouth pressing a delicate kiss against his palm.

Gently tucking the valentine and the Bible into his pocket, he kissed her forehead before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Let's go home, my Scottish maid, my beautiful witch, my sweet bride."

"Gladly, my husband, Charles Carson."

* * *

Nanny's funeral occurring the following week, the entire family set off for a two week trip to Brancaster Castle the following weekend during which major renovation of a section of guest rooms took place, providing a brand new nursery, as well as personal bedrooms for each of the grandchildren on the far opposite side of the house from where the former nursery and nanny's room had been.

Taking advantage of the family's absence, Elsie and Charles set off on a different train, their luggage light, although their cargo precious, as they made their way towards the land of her birth and the final resting place of Eulalia and Mercy.

* * *

The weather was sunny and fair for a late October afternoon in Scotland as the couple made their way to the cemetery in which Elsie's family, as well as the rest of the coven, were interred.

"Ye wee mongrel! What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Elsie Hughes? It's been nigh on an age since you last visited, lass!"

Elsie couldn't help but grin at the old man on whose grave she used to lay when she was showing off to her friends. Letting go of her husband's hand, she answered, "I'm sorry I've been so long Mr. Phillips. I have been in England for a time."

Charles stopped mid-step, turning to look at his wife who was seemingly addressing the air.

"And this big fellow? He looks to be quite the Englishman."

Elsie laughed, "A truer statement there never was, I assure you, Mr. Phillips."

"Is he good to you, lass?" The old gentleman floated to the end of his grave, his grin gentle as he looked into the large blue eyes he remembered so well.

"That he is, Mr. Phillips. More than good. He is the best husband a wife could ask for."

"And he knows you are special?"

Elsie managed a modest smile. "You'd have to ask him that."

Charles let his curiosity win out as he asked, "What? What did Mr. Phillips ask?"

She tucked her arm into the crook of his as she explained, "He asked if you knew that I was special."

Directing his gaze at the spot on which Elsie had been focused, he swallowed hard before answering, "There is no one more special, Mr. Phillips, and no husband prouder than I to have a woman as his wife."

The old man gave Elsie a wink. "I think he'll do, lass. I think he'll do."

Beaming, she assured her old friend, "I think so, too."

* * *

"There it is."

Charles looked over, setting his eyes in the direction to which his wife pointed, spotting a large, rather primitive stone formation at the edge of the cemetery.

"It's the coven's rock." She explained. "It's where the witches have always left their gifts for the goddess and a few of the sisters are buried near it."

Having reached the spot, Charles was cautiously, but curiously studying the eight-foot tall formations when a familiar voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He whirled around, shocked to hear the voice of the little witch once more. "Eulalia?"

The two witches hovered on either side of Elsie, their figures glowing in the dusk that was falling around them.

"We wouldn't go without saying goodbye, Mr. Carson." Mercy offered with a grin.

Charles took a few steps towards them, his voice filled with wonder. "I can see you." He looked at his wife. "Is this what you see when you see Lady Sybil and William?"

She nodded, crossing to him, her hands held out for him to take. "Sort of, but they don't have Eulalia and Mercy's glaeme. They've retained a bit which is why you can see them."

"Ah." The timbre of his voice shifted to disappointment as he looked back at the women. "So I won't be able to see you after today?"

"I'm afraid not and we've only a matter of moments now." Mercy gently floated towards him, a sadly smiling Eulalia in her wake. "We've lived a long, wonderful shared life…"

Eulalia reached out and slid her hand into Mercy's as she finished her mate's sentence. "And now we will share a wonderful eternity."

As the witches' glaeme began to subtly fade, Charles whispered through a sob, "I am so grateful for your sacrifice."

Elsie's bottom lip quivered as she tearfully added, "I don't know what would have happened…"

"You would have done what was needed to in order to protect Charles and the child," Eulalia assured her.

Mercy wrapped her long arms around Eulalia, her voice fading along with her glow. "Having spent time with you and your husband, it's clear that you have become the truest you, dove, and it isn't because you've begun using magic again. It's because of the love this dear man has shown you and what you feel for him. That is magic in itself. As Eulie told you, _love is key_ and you have found the truest and purest form of it with your Charles. You deserve more time with him here in the earthly realm. We couldn't take a chance that your precious life might be cut short, and we are happy to be going home if it means the two of you can continue on with your happy lives."

"Use your gifts as you always have, but know it is alright to allow it to enhance your own life for the better, Elsie. Magic isn't about saving the world. It's about loving people and celebrating life."

"Oh, please don't go yet!" Elsie cried as the women began to disappear from view.

"We're with you, dove. We're always with you…" Mercy's voice faded away with the last bit of their glaemes.

"Thank you, thank you both…I love you…." Elsie slipped from her husband's grasp, rushing in the direction of where the women had just disappeared.

Allowing her a few moments, Charles glanced down to find a long headstone embedded into the ground that he was certain hadn't been there a moment ago.

 _Mercy Avanelle Merriweather born 1801 Eulalia Grace Goodwin born 1799_

 _Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?_

 _William Shakespeare_

"They are unusual and quite unlike any other elderly women you've ever met or will meet, for that matter." Moving behind his wife, Charles wrapped his arms around Elsie's waist as he whispered the words she had used to describe the women only a few weeks before. "You were right and my life is all the richer for knowing them. You said they lived a life much like our own? I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you as happy as they made one another."

Elsie's breath hitched as she looked up at him, smiling through a cascade of tears. "And I you." Turning around and wrapping her arms around his neck, she brushed away the few tears that lingered on his cheeks before attending to her own.

"Would you like to go up there now?" Charles asked looking up at the hill Elsie had pointed out to him upon their arrival.

"Only their graves remain now. My mother and father went on to the next place not long after I moved to England, and Gran and Grandpa Mac didn't linger much longer than that."

"But your Gran…"

"She is my sister within the coven. We are irrevocably linked. As Mercy said, they are always with me."

"I'm glad for that, but I'm sorry about your family…"

Levitating so she could wrap her arms more tightly around his neck, she rested her head upon his shoulder as she whispered, "Don't be. I've all the family I need right here."

* * *

They arrived back in Downton late the following day, the sun setting as they made their way through the village towards home. Approaching the churchyard, Charles reached out and gently took Elsie's elbow. "Would you mind if we made a stop?"

A warm smile on her face, she nodded. "Of course we can."

Both remained quiet as they made their way among the weather mottled stones. They were approaching their destination when Elsie sensed her husband had stopped. "Do you want me to talk with them first?"

He nodded, reaching out to take her valise, surprised when she suddenly ran back and kissed his cheek.

"Don't be afraid, Charlie. There are no three people in heaven or on earth who could love you more than we."

She had walked about twenty meters when he saw her lift her hand in a greeting. A minute passed before she turned back to him, a warm and beckoning smile on her face. Leaving their bags behind, he felt his knees weaken as he approached the headstone he had visited so many time in his life; intensely grateful when Elsie intertwined her fingers with his, a gentle squeeze given to his hand as she looked up into his timid face.

"You've the same look on your face as you had your first day of school, your mother says."

Charles let out a tearful laugh, wiping his eyes as he looked in the direction to which her wife was nodding. "Hello, Mother, Hello, Dad. I'm so happy you've gotten to know my Elsie…"

* * *

Their naked, exhausted bodies wrapped around one another in the sanctuary of their soft bed, Charles let out a sigh, his fingers lightly dusting down the soft skin of her back. "Thank you for today."

Pulling back her head she looked up into her husband's moonlit face. "Thank you for every day, my darling."

"Three weeks and then I have you all to myself."

"I can't wait."

He pulled her tightly to him as she nuzzled her face against his chest. "You'd best get some rest, love."

"Wait." Elsie suddenly sat up and looked to the fireplace which burst into a warm blaze before climbing out of bed.

"Sweetheart?"

The sash of the window lifting, Charles watched as white wings gently emerged from his wife's naked back; the bird soaring through the window and into the night sky.

Climbing back into bed, she returned to his welcoming arms, delighting in the knowledge that she would soon fly once more. Placing a gentle kiss over his heart, she began to softly sing:

 _Oh, he's bonny my lad_

 _The image of his dad_

 _And you'd love him, too_

 _If my Charlie y_ _ou knew_

 _A lion, my man_

 _I'm his biggest fan_

 _And you'd love him, too_

 _If my Charlie you knew…_

* * *

 ** _And there you have it._**

 ** _Thank you for all the support (goodness knows I relied on it heavily) and kindness offered to me through your lovely, clever, and so appreciated reviews and Tumblr reposts._**

 ** _Special thanks to Chelsiesouloftheabbey- three-fourths of this fic wouldn't have been written without your steadying hand reaching out to me from across the country. You are a blessing._**

 ** _Love, Jen (and the sweet witch)_**


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